


The Brothers

by starhoneyy



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blackmail, Blood, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deception, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fire, Jaeyong main but..., Kissing, Knifeplay, Lee Taeyong-centric, M/M, Manipulation, Masochism, Mental Instability, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Obsessive Behavior, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Privilege, Read The Last Tag Again, Rich assholes, Sadism, Slow Build, Small Towns, Stressed Lee Taeyong, Taeyong does not die in this fic if that’s in any way reassuring, Taeyong is so fucked, Tension, Toxic Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhoneyy/pseuds/starhoneyy
Summary: Taeyong wasn't an innocent man. He'd been on the run from a secret he hadn't dared utter a word of since it happened nearly a year ago. Now with nobody to turn to and his family members estranged, he decided to settle down in a small town in the middle of nowhere in an attempt to restart his life and find peace.There were three of them, The Brothers, though not by blood. They seemed to have taken an unwanted interest in him, prying into his life and discovering secrets that remained unspoken even in the dead of the night. And if The Brothers wanted you, they got you one way or another.The three of them would be his demise, but Taeyong had always been on the run, and the past has its own funny way of catching up to you.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong/Johnny, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 128
Kudos: 125





	1. Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> !This story does not reflect real life! This is a pure work of _fiction_ and should be treated as such. It does not reflect the boys whatsoever. I repeat: this story does not reflect real life in any way, shape, or form. Please proceed with caution.

There's something pulling him down under. His bones are bricks; heavy, immovable things unable to reach the surface due to the sheer force of the water pulling him down. He questions if that's what it really is — water. The weighted, bitter thing clogging his throat, filling his lungs, his mouth, his throat, his blood stream, with sharp salt, like glass, tearing at him from the inside out. He can't breathe or see. It's dark. So, so _dark._ And there's nobody with him in the inky vastness of the ocean, left alone to swallow him whole and suck him into its depths like a whirlpool.

He looks down at his hands, blinking water uselessly from his eyes. They're red and sticky, and it's blood, he knows. The blood won't come off no matter how much he rubs his hands together till they're raw, shakes them off till they're numb, or digs his nails in them — it only leaves the underside of his cuticles with more blood. It won't come off — and it's growing now, from his hands to his arms, and he can feel it in his mouth as he goes lightheaded; iron and metallic. And he thinks one last thought before his body gives up and sinks into nothingness;

_Is this how it feels to be a dead man?_

Taeyong woke up in cold sweat, body too hot under the thin blanket. He shot up, reaching out into the darkness and gasping for air. Though, he didn't need to worry for long — he was whole, he was _alive,_ and he could see his hands through the darkness of his room; they were clean and dry. Not a fleck of dried up blood on them, only tough textured palms as he rubbed them together to regain some feeling in his skin and bones. He shut his eyes, shuddering out deep breath. He was fine. It was fine. He should've been over it by now.

The dream should've been over _him_ by now. His conscience had told him that he'd done nothing wrong — he _had_ done nothing wrong, he reaffirmed to himself. It was just a nightmare. A stupid fucking nightmare that wouldn't leave him alone — a nightmare with no real substance. Taeyong breathed out a sigh, laying back down to stare at the wall for a few minutes, focusing on the sound of his breathing and the rustling of trees outside. Dead men couldn't hear the wind — they were in purgatory, or heaven, or hell.

_Hell._

Taeyong gripped unto his sheets, knuckles turning ivory white as he shut his eyes. He'd force himself back asleep whether he liked it or not and that was that.

Taeyong let the water cascade down his body to wash away his thoughts — an internal and external purge before he started another day. The water scorched his skin and turned the crevices of his fingers pruny, and only then did he deem it time to step out of the shower and in front of the crooked mirror. Looking at his reflection, he felt nothing in particular — a little bit _dull._ His eyes were sunken in from the nightmare that kept him up last night, like it always did when it recurred, and his blonde hair had fallen flat. He'd ask Ten to cut it maybe, Ten had said he was good with scissors.

He smiled then at his reflection, before that too fell flat. It was too large for his face, too angular, too sharp and wonky — and most importantly, it wasn't _genuine._ He hated fake smiles, he could notice them from a mile away, and they never meant anything good. So, instead, he frowned and went out to change and pick up his school bag, the destination of town's university in mind.

The walk wasn't far, ten to fifteen minutes at most, but he didn't like it. The more time he had to think, the more his thoughts would spiral. He was tired of it — thinking. But he lucked out with the distance because in a town like that, it could've been further. But Ridgewood was perfect. All the houses and stores were in close knit circles, nothing too far apart when he needed to go shopping, and the people mostly kept to themselves. At least, they did when they saw that Taeyong wasn't willing to talk.

And it wasn't that he wasn't _willing_ per se, but the townspeople liked to poke and prod and ask him where he came from, and why he had come — _Why, of all places, Ridgewood?_ The answer was simple. It wasn't because he wanted to, it was because he had no other choice. So he kept his answers elusive, but the townsfolk, on the other hand, weren't a fan of elusive. To integrate, you'd have to open up, and Taeyong wasn't ready for that. Taeyong wouldn't be ready for that _ever._

Taeyong continued his walk to campus in silence — perhaps if he saved up soon, he'd then be able to afford some headphones. Anything to keep him distracted, anything to keep him busy, and anything to take away the feeling of hair standing to attention on the back of his neck. He clutched his bag tighter as he entered the building, the feeling of being watched worsening and tightening the knots in his muscles. He was too busy looking back to notice the person in front of him until it was too late.

Taeyong staggered backwards, nearly completely losing balance before catching and stabilising himself. The sound of a crash blared in his ears, alarming him that something that hit the floor _hard,_ and he looked below then, shellshocked at the sight of scattered, broken metal beneath his feet. Below him was a laptop, chipped and opened on its sides and on its otherwise sleek, smooth edges.

He'd broken it.

There were another pair of feet rooted in place in front of him, and Taeyong's eyes zoomed upwards to what must've been the laptop owner — passive in expression and stance as if Taeyong hadn't just destroyed his entire school career with one small bump. He caught eyes with the man, and his breath hitched all at the same time, taken aback by a flash of emotion in his eyes.

He was on the verge of panic because a crowd had gathered — watching and waiting, like Taeyong was, for the explosive reaction that was sure to come from an college student who'd had their laptop broken right before their very eyes all because of Taeyong's _stupidity._ Taeyong took a step back, mouth opening like a fish, only for it to end up wordless. The feeling of everyone watching him in the background was enough to set off his fight or flight.

The man had caught him with a hand clamped on his shoulder before Taeyong's feet could take him running outside. Because that had always been his first response — to run away.

"Hey, hey, _hey,_ " the victim began far too softly to indicate anger, to indicate anything other than care, and to indicate that Taeyong, despite everything, had done nothing wrong. Taeyong found himself stilling when the stretch of a large hand fell all the way down to his shoulder blade.

"It's fine."

He was lying, Taeyong was sure of it. How could it be _fine?_ The item must have cost hundreds, maybe thousands — a lot more than he could ever afford. But he couldn't leave it here without paying for it. It was his fault for not looking where he was going properly, it was his fault for being so goddamn paranoid, and it was his fault for—

"I said, it's fine," the man cut off his stream of deteriorating thoughts. The crowd had yet to disperse, but the man remained unaffected, a stark contrast from how Taeyong was. He smiled then — dimpled, Taeyong registered. Dimpled, bright, and beautiful. But his arm on Taeyong's shoulder didn't let up. "Don't worry about it."

"I'll pay you back," Taeyong got out before he could think to stop himself. And if all eyes weren't on him before, they certainly were now. But the man smiled wider, letting his hand fall, and gave Taeyong's form a once over before crouching down to pick up pieces of the destroyed, non-functional piece of metal. Taeyong followed suit, kneeling to gather what was left, but a hand shot out and held his in place.

"I said it's fine." He was still smiling, he was still relaxed, but the look in his eyes made Taeyong obey the command — wrapped wrist falling limp in the man's hand. "Thank you."

Taeyong practically yanked his hand back, but the man paid him no attention as he rubbed the patch over his wrist — it wasn't sensitive, it wasn't sore, it didn't even hurt, touch practically feather light, but the sharpness he had used to catch it... Taeyong didn't _know._ He was making a mountain out of a molehill, he was well aware of it, and he still couldn't help but feel bad that he'd broken it in the first place. He stood up slowly, eyes flickering across the hall at the people who were slowly, but surely, beginning to disperse.

He watched as the man below him picked up the pieces silently, nothing in his aura hinting at even slight vexation. Taeyong couldn't understand it — the lack of reaction. He was waiting for it to come because it always did — it always did, be it now or later, but it _did._ He knew that. He'd learnt that a long time ago.

The man stood with the metal bits in his hand, smiling at him brightly, gently, invitingly. It was hypnotising; his smile and the pools in his cheeks. He'd always had a thing for dimples. Back then, too, he had loved them on Minjae. And his dimples were so deep, like oceans and moon craters were indented into the flesh of his skin. Taeyong diverted his eyes away from him — he'd been staring for too long.

"Don't worry about it," the stranger said one last time before smiling wider, then leaving after the whole ordeal was over.

Taeyong found himself relaxing when he left, the wires that had coiled around his bones loosening and allowing him to move less stiffly. He kept his eyes trained forward as he made his way to class. He felt... _indebted_ somehow. He hated the feeling. Owing people wasn't a good thing, and the reminder would glue itself to the back of his mind until he did something about it. He'd make it up to him someway, somehow, just so his debt would be _paid off._

Taeyong made sure to keep his eyes trained forward, ignoring the persistent paranoia crawling over his skin when there was truly nothing to be paranoid about in the first place. He pushed himself forward until he was at class, a minute late, but he'd made it nonetheless. That was an achievement in and of itself. And the paranoia was gone now as he slipped into a seat at the very back, hiding himself in the shadows so that he could concentrate.

Until he couldn't. They were in the same class. The stranger had walked in. Taeyong questioned how he'd never noticed somebody like that before.

Taeyong was glad that he found Ten when he did at the beginning of the school year. It'd only been a month since University had started, and Taeyong had spent his entire summer alone renovating when he finally settled down, and he was glad that he had somehow made it feel homey. He had been alone for awhile now, so it was as much as a home could be with only one person, but he'd been used to that with Minjae, too, at the end of their relationship — living alone.

Ten was enigmatic. Ten was inviting. Ten was friendly. And most importantly, Ten made him feel less _alone._

Taeyong knew it now, and he'd known it then that day that Ten had decided to befriend him, that he wouldn't have made it so far being by himself. Three solitary Summer months in this town were hard, but four would have brought him to the brink of madness if he had nobody to talk to. Ten didn't ask questions, but they still talked about other things — things more comfortable than the topic he was so desperately trying to avoid. But Ten brought along Doyoung, and Doyoung... Doyoung wasn't quite as _nice._

"He's doing it again," Doyoung said, obvious chagrin laced in his tone — a tone Taeyong had grown accustomed to, but didn't that stop him from wincing at it nonetheless. Doyoung hadn't even bothered to look at Taeyong as he said it, too busy peeling his tangerine as if that was much more interesting, but there was venom in his voice that was meant to sting, and it was sharp enough to slap Taeyong out of his dazed thoughts.

Ten slid a hand over Taeyong's thigh, caressing it with his thumb softly and jostling him awake fully. Ten leaned over to whisper, "You good?"

Taeyong looked between the warm hand resting on him to the concerned face of its owner and forced a smile. It felt rigid, and he prayed Ten wouldn't comment on it if he took notice. "I'm good. Just fixing up my schedule in my head — checking off bills to pay, stuff like that," Taeyong excused himself.

Ten lifted his hand and nodded, now assured that Taeyong was okay, or at the very least, pretending to believe that he was. Taeyong let out a wound up breath, forcing himself to pick up his food in an effort to appear semi-normal to the eyes of the general public. He'd been shaken up since his morning encounter, and in turn, more on edge than usual — alert somehow and always sitting up straight and at attention. He could feel eyes on him, like that of the crowd with their weight, but these... these eyes felt _singular._

Taeyong swallowed down the bland food and glanced over to the direction that his gut was telling him to take a peek at. He was right, for once, and the paranoia had real fuel this time because he _was_ being watched, just not by anything as scary as what he originally imagined. Taeyong blinked at him, eyes latched upon the stranger he had bumped into in the morning, and for some reason, couldn't pull his eyes away from. They were holding eye contact now, that was until he looked away first, the same smile still lingering on his lips, and leaving Taeyong to look like the mad one. All things considered, he probably was.

"What are you staring at?" Ten's voice came from beside him.

Taeyong ripped his eyes away from him to Ten who was waiting for an answer patiently, a small smile on his lips to encourage him, like a parent would at their child who was barely on the verge of saying their first word. It was well meant but demeaning. He couldn't blame Ten for treating him like that, but he blamed himself for appearing so helpless that he needed such treatment in the first place.

Doyoung, on the other hand, had already followed Taeyong's line of vision. He narrowed his eyes. "He was looking at Jaehyun. And Jaehyun was looking at him."

_"Jaehyun?"_ Ten reeled, visibly moving back, eyes widening. Ten paused to look past Taeyong who was now shifting under embarrassment from having been caught, but at least now he knew the strangers name. Jaehyun sounded.. nice. It'd roll smooth off the tongue if he were to say it out loud, he guessed, but didn't because of how it would look reciting his name to himself.

Ten squinted a bit. "Jaehyun isn't looking at him, stop lying." He then turned back to Taeyong, an indecipherable look in his eyes. "Why were you looking at them?"

_Them?_ Taeyong glanced back, confused. Ten was right, though. He had completely missed another set of people — two of them sitting on the table with _Jaehyun,_ conversing quietly. One short one, or short compared to the giant of a man beside him, and then Jaehyun on the opposite side of the two. They looked invested in their conversation, but that was normal as friends, of course, but he couldn't help but notice that the tables beside them were empty — an insignificant thing, but something he had noticed nonetheless.

He watched as the giant slipped an arm around the shorter one's waist, before looking away, feeling like some sort of intruder.

"Yeah, they're in some weird ass sibling orgy, I think," Doyoung snorted cynically from across the table. Ten kicked him underneath the table, face pinched, and Taeyong would have laughed if he wasn't certain Doyoung would've kicked him next if he got the chance.

"Don't say that," Ten hissed, leaning forward, before glancing at the trio before relaxing back into his chair, arms crossed. "It's not true like that. God, Doyoung, you have such a big mouth." Ten ran a hand through his hair, and Doyoung smirked. And before they could change the subject, Taeyong chose to speak up, unthinking.

"Are they actually siblings?" he asked, trying to mask his bubbling curiosity with a low volume. He usually wasn't one for gossip, not anymore, so he partially wondered to himself where the sudden question had even come from. It must have been the people of Ridgewood rubbing off on him.

"Yes—" Doyoung started.

"No," Ten stressed. "Well, sort of. The two sitting beside each other just became step-siblings last Summer, and Jaehyun has been with them since they were kids. They all have. They're _like_ brothers, but not really. People think there's something going on with them, but I don't think so. They're friendly, just... weirdly close. And Doyoung likes to see the worst in people."

His last sentence must have been an untrue statement because it sparked something inside Doyoung.

"You say that like it's not true," Doyoung spat, an edge to his voice that hadn't been there moments before — it was anger that had hidden, but it was surfacing now at Ten's words. Taeyong felt like he should interject, diffuse whatever it was, possibly even get Ten to apologise if not for Doyoung's sake, but his mouth stayed zipped together as he watched the exchange between the two of them.

"Dons, you can't keep—" Ten started, but Doyoung stood up abruptly with his tray in hand, causing both Taeyong's and Ten's eyes to go wide from shock. Doyoung shot them both angered looks — Taeyong's warranted or not — and slung his bag over his back. He made to leave before pausing for a moment and settling his eyes back on Taeyong, causing him to hold his breath in anticipation. He shouldn't have even asked that stupid question. He never would have if he knew it would set Doyoung off like this.

"You should stay away from them," Doyoung said, voice hard and coated in warning. "They're not good people."

Taeyong furrowed his brows and frowned as Doyoung walked off, Ten making no efforts to follow him. He didn't exactly know how to feel about that statement. But Doyoung would be a good source, he figured, since he wasn't the best person either. Though that thought was quite mean, and he regretted it immediately afterwards, casting a vague, sorry glance in Doyoung's direction that Doyoung completely disregarded, back turned to the both of them.

He couldn't truly form an opinion, he knew, because he hadn't been there long enough to know those things — the town and the intricate relationships woven in between them. Ten sighed, looking down at his food, and Taeyong wrenched his eyes away from Doyoung's retreating figure.

"I'm sorry about that," Taeyong apologised, "I shouldn't have brought it up.”

Ten smiled at him, strained, and Taeyong couldn't help but feel that Ten was annoyed at him even when trying to hide it. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. Ten would never let him know. "It's fine. Doyoung just.. hates them. Don't bring them up again and you'll be good, okay?"

Taeyong nodded apologetically at his words, forcing himself not to turn back and make eye contact with the stranger again, no matter how much his body was screaming at him to.

Ten smiled. "Great."

They went back to eating again, Ten, for once, making no attempts to initiate small talk, and Taeyong was never one to usually start conversation either. So, they both stayed quiet, a pregnant silence falling over them, like a looming reminder as to what had just occurred. Suddenly, Ten lifted his head, causing Taeyong to look up too, and they locked eyes.

"Doyoung was right, though, you should stay away from them — The Brothers."

Taeyong nodded, taking in the seriousness in his eyes before picking up his food with cold hands. He couldn't help the way that his mind wandered back to them time and time again, though, and that name Ten had coined them as if it was some sort of official thing. It was odd. They were odd.

_The Brothers._

Taeyong scrubbed at his hands in the bathroom, taking extra time to wash them than was needed or necessary, but he was long past the point of getting rid of the habit — the itch that had wormed its way under his skin had now gone too far. It was like his nightmare from the night prior materialised in front of him, and there was blood on his hands — thick and sticky, even with the soap. But there was nothing there, visually even — his hands were wet and raw pink, and yet, he couldn't stop unless he pumped the soap for the third time and washed them for another two minutes.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom was pushed open, and the action had startled him more than it should've, he knew, but perhaps it was his instincts that had somehow known that the guy he'd met earlier was at the door. _Jaehyun,_ he recollected Ten saying, had paused, and so had Taeyong, breath hitching for a reason he couldn't place, before he shut the door quietly as if to trap him. But that was Taeyong's mind thinking too much into things. That was Taeyong's mind relating him to the likes of Minjae.

"Hey," Jaehyun started as if it was an everyday occurrence to make conversation in the bathroom — perhaps it was. Taeyong had been the one far too out of loop, rooted in place awkwardly at the most basic of social interactions at times, and now was of no exception. "Can't believe I ran into you again so soon," Jaehyun continued, smiling. 

Taeyong's eyes travelled to the dimples in his cheeks, and he blinked, eyes momentarily focused on them, and when he opened them, the dimples were gone. Jaehyun was no longer smiling.

"You okay?" Jaehyun asked him, sincerity swimming in his eyes as he took a step forward.

Taeyong took a step back unconsciously, body instinctively reacting at the mere thought of being cornered. "You look really out of it," Jaehyun said, eyebrows pulled down into a deep set frown, and he took another step forward, ripped out a paper towel from the dispenser, and took Taeyong's hands in his before he could completely back away.

Taeyong hadn't even noticed how the wetness of his hands had been dripping on the floor from his unthinking actions, instead of drying them like any sane person would have. Jaehyun must have thought he was weird, he must have thought that Taeyong was some sort of freak, and yet, he had said nothing about it. He must have noticed it, too, the way Taeyong's hands trembled in his when he gently wiped them down. It was juvenile, the way he was being treated by a practical stranger, like some sort of doll or diamond — something to be treated with care and to be handled delicately. It made something simmer in Taeyong's belly, low and warm.

Taeyong took away his hands — not quite yanking them like the last time, but sudden and quick enough for it to seem... _abnormal._ And again, if Jaehyun had noticed it, he chose not to comment on it. He was far too nice to him, Taeyong thought, and Taeyong was wary of nice. Nice people weren't just nice, they never just did things without an ulterior motive, Minjae had taught him that — Minjae, once, had been nice. Until he wasn't. But Jaehyun was, and Taeyong was just being _paranoid._

"T-Thank you," Taeyong said as Jaehyun threw away the towel, hating the way his voice sounded when he stuttered. He took a shallow breath as Jaehyun turned back to him, eyes sweeping over Taeyong's figure. "I'm still sorry about earlier. I'll find a way to pay you back," Taeyong insisted, if only to give himself peace of mind.

To owe someone was to allow them to taken hold of a piece of you and to always worry about the inevitable. It was a lingering reminder that your feet could be snatched from right up under you by a sudden request. No. Taeyong didn't want to deal with that looming responsibility.

To his surprise, Jaehyun tipped his head back and let out a hearty, well meaning laugh. It was loud and rambunctious before it subsided into deep, faded chuckles. It was somehow as if, to him, Taeyong had said the funniest thing in the world. Taeyong couldn't find any humour in it, but his lips had twitched upwards into something almost resembling a smile. It was Jaehyun's effect. Perhaps he was charming enough to rub off on even Taeyong of all people, because there he was, smiling smally, an action he hadn't done in weeks — no, _months._

"You're still on about that?" Jaehyun said, the remnants of a laugh still scattered in his voice.

Taeyong nodded slowly, _of course_ he had meant it. And Jaehyun must have begun to understand it — Taeyong's unwillingness to let go unless the ordeal had been paid for on his end — because he paused, face unreadable for a split second to think, before he smiled again, wide and beautiful. "I'll tell you what," he started, hand leaning on the sink top, and Taeyong watched how his muscles flexed through his shirt. "I'll forget all your _debts_ on one condition.."

Taeyong's shoulders relaxed a little, wound up tension releasing itself from the knots of his muscles slowly. He was being given a chance to redeem himself.

Jaehyun's lips twitched as he spoke, "Come to the party we're hosting on Saturday. That's all."

Jaehyun's demand, had been so simple, so easy, and it was more of a kind offer than a demand — maybe he had noticed how Taeyong was so lonely in class, maybe he had noticed him and Ten and Doyoung who were friends but not _really,_ or maybe it was none of those things. Maybe it was _pity._ But the look in Jaehyun's eyes told him it was otherwise — an honest offer is what it was, one he should've been thrashing to grab, and yet, the mere notion of such a thing had made his body go hard.

Jaehyun's eyes swept over his frame, and he ran a hand through his dark hair. "It won't be too big in case that's what you're worried about. No drugs or anything like that. Pretty tame. But we host it nearly every year, and practically everyone attends. I noticed you were new, so I thought that maybe..." The rest of his sentence remained unsaid, but Taeyong had understood it clearly. So it _was_ pity, but at least it was masked in well-intentioned friendliness. But, throughout Jaehyun's short spiel, he could only focus on one thing;

"Who's we?"

Jaehyun hadn't even faltered, not even for the fraction of a section that Taeyong had used to blink. He'd been expecting the question, it seemed. His smile grew wider. "My brothers and I. Johnny and Mark, Mark and Johnny. I thought you might have seen them already," Jaehyun said casually, something in his stare picking Taeyong apart.

Taeyong paused. So Jaehyun himself referred to them like.. _that._ Taeyong didn't know what to think of it — maybe they were really just that close. But he knew Jaehyun, vaguely, in a distant stranger, passing way, yet he knew neither of the other two Brothers at all. He couldn't help but feel wary — it was a natural reaction of his, after all.

And maybe there was some truth behind Doyoung's words that rang through his head like a silent, yet unnervingly loud, warning signal, but Jaehyun with dimpled smiles and soft words, Jaehyun who was so forgiving, Jaehyun who was so kind, just looking at that Jaehyun in front of him, Taeyong couldn't possibly begin to understand where Doyoung had been coming from. It could have been jealousy or envy — something bitter and green that made Doyoung feel like that towards someone like Jaehyun, or maybe it was something else, something akin to what he felt to Taeyong himself even though Taeyong had done nothing _wrong._

Whatever it was, Doyoung had to be wrong about him. Taeyong had met bad men before, he'd met men who were worse than beasts, more vindictive than villains, and more evil than lucifer himself.Jaehyun wasn't giving him those tell tell signs of being any of those things at all. Jaehyun was the same as Ten — just as nice, just as appealing, just as willing to be patient, to sit down, to listen to, and maybe even help, a stranger in need. In all forms and facets, Doyoung must have been wrong.

"So, will you come?"

Jaehyun stood straighter then, now becoming aware of the growing noise inside the halls to indicate people rushing to their lectures and the fact that they could be walked in on at any time, and whatever conversation they'd been having would be put on hold. Jaehyun held out a hand for him to shake, and Taeyong stared at it, the rush of blood thrumming in his ears. Jaehyun's hand looked soft, and it was a peace offering of sorts — a way to bridge the gap that Taeyong had purposefully put between them.

Taeyong took his hand tentatively, noting their coldness, and Jaehyun grinned from ear to ear.

The pads of Jaehyun's cold thumb stroked over the back of his hand, before he let go.

"Perfect."

Taeyong had made many bad decisions in his life, so many that he could no longer count them on his fingers. He was born from bad decisions; a drunken mistake that his mother had, and that streak had continued throughout the entirety of his life. It was like a domino effect, each mistake leading to another — to Minjae, to Ridgewood, to _here,_ at Jaehyun's party. His gut had told him this was another one of those mistakes, and that he shouldn't have been outside at ten pm, the cold stinging his exposed arms and the sound of bass thumping in his ears as he gaped at the sight before him.

And yet, here he was.

Ten had been in utter disbelief when Taeyong told him of his plans the next day. He couldn't believe that Taeyong had insisted on going to a party with him, that _Taeyong_ had been the one to bring such a thing up, but ultimately, he had no qualms about it. He had agreed quickly before Taeyong could change his mind, and the week had passed by slowly until it was suddenly Saturday, and Ten had showed up at his front door with a bright smile on his face.

Jaehyun had lied about it being a small party because it wasn't anything of the sort. The party was _huge,_ and it was like the entirety of their University was packed into the large mansion — people spilling out from the inside and into the front garden. They were mingling; a mix of alcohol, sweat, and what was sure to be inevitable bad decisions in the air. Taeyong had been to parties before — he'd been to _galas,_ too many of them to count, but they were nothing like this. This was disorderly, chaotic, _uncertain._

Taeyong knew what would happen at the end of those galas, he knew what he had to do as soon as he stepped in, hand wrapped around Minjae's arm and body curved into his side, with a smile so wide and so forced that it hurt the corners of his lips. But there was no specific outcome to this party. Anything could happen — _anything_ could happen, and Taeyong's spirit was unsettled by the fact. He hadn't stepped inside, he was barely on the property, but his insides were working against him, screaming at his feet to turn around and leg it. But he couldn't run.

He was so so tired of _running._

"Come on," Ten said excitedly, dragging Taeyong in by the arm.

Despite Ten's warnings and his subtle agreement with Doyoung, he had been all too eager to attend the party, throwing caution out to the wind. He had even taken the time to dress up beautifully, unlike Taeyong, with a leather jacket, sheer top, tight pants, and gold glitter on his eyelids. Taeyong let Ten drag him closer and closer, the knots in his stomach winding tighter and tighter and the smell of alcohol growing bitter and acrid in his nose.

The party was open door, so anybody could walk in. That didn't exactly ease any of Taeyong's worries, though, because it just meant that _anyone_ could come in — thief, murderer, arsonist. And he could've laughed at the thought because, in and of itself, that was hypocritical. But he stayed quiet as Ten dragged him in, the bass of the music thumping in his ears, and the soft, red glow of the room making him have to blink himself out of his stupor.

Ten was still beside him as he looked around, body viscerally buzzing with unmatched excitement. His eyes were darting around from the dance floor, to the beer pong game, to the table of drinks, even to back outside so that he could probably take a dip in their pool fully clothed like he had eagerly told Taeyong on their way there. Taeyong grimaced at the thought of the ocean-like pool of water, his reoccurring nightmares coming to the forefront of his mind, but he didn't need to worry, at the very least, because before Ten could think to suggest it, someone came up to them.

"Ten, hey!" the girl greeted, going directly for Ten and pulling him into a wobbly bear hug.

Taeyong blamed her tipsiness for the lack of his own greeting, and it was expected that Ten knew people that he didn't. After all, Ten was the one that grew up in Ridgewood. But Taeyong was used to such treatment — to nodding and smiling by someone else's side, quiet and despondent, not speaking unless directly spoken to. But he didn't have to do that anymore. Not now or ever again.

After one heavy breath, Taeyong offered a simple, _"Hi."_

He had hated how his voice had come out, but at least he started it, at least he took initiative. He wasn't looking to be friends with her, he was still on edge about people getting to know him and about how much they'd pry before inevitably realising he was a lost cause, but he was at a party. It'd look rude to not even try and bother with talking to anyone, and he didn't have the certain flare it took to make it look like he was casually brooding in the corner. No, if he was alone, he'd simply look _pathetic._

The girl peeled herself off Ten and turned to blink at him. And Ten, as if just remembering Taeyong's presence in the first place, looked at Taeyong, sheepish.

"Wendy, this is Taeyong. Taeyong, this is Wendy," Ten said, gesturing between them with a hand.

Wendy squinted her eyes at him, and Taeyong almost squirmed, forcing his body to become rigid under a stare that was far too dissecting to belong to a drunken girl. The intense feeling of her eyes on his body stopped, though, as she broke out into a lopsided grin. She then held out a hand, and he took it. "Wendy, nice to meet you. You and Ten should join us, a bunch of us have formed a dance circle.

Ten laughed. "Uh huh. I'll need a few drinks in my system before I can really throw it down, though."

"I can get them."

Once again, Ten seemed startled by Taeyong's offer. "You don't have to," Ten told him, but Taeyong shook his head and _insisted._

Ten grabbed his arm. "Be careful," Ten warned suddenly. Taeyong tensed, but Ten leaned into whisper, "Shit going down is notorious at these parties. It's always one thing or another, one rumor that emerges that people don't just _forget._ " And Taeyong understood it, in a town like Ridgewood, things probably weren't just swept under the rug — people wouldn't forget, and Taeyong hadn't come to cause himself trouble. He'd find Jaehyun within the hour and be in and out, debt paid and the nagging in his mind gone forever.

Ten must've seen how his words affected Taeyong, though, because he smiled a little. "Just stay out of the direction of trouble and you'll be fine." Ten let go of his arm then, and Taeyong relaxed slightly now that he wasn't being held so firmly — such touches sent shivers down his spine. "I doubt it anyway," Ten said, passing the comment as less or more insulting that it really was, "but that was just a heads up. And thank you for the drinks, Tae."

"Mhm, thank you!" Wendy squealed, her short bob swaying in tandem with her over-enthusiastic movements.

Taeyong nodded then, ready to leave in search for drinks and possibly Jaehyun, and before he could drop in his own _no problem,_ Wendy was dragging Ten off in the direction of the man-made dance floor. Ten shot him an apologetic look, but it was half assed at best, and Taeyong didn't fault him for it, he knew his presence would act as a burden if he ended up overstaying his welcome between Ten and all his other friends. It was times like this that reminded Taeyong that Ten was hanging out with him out of _pity._ And Doyoung too, maybe, because who would want to put a hand into the storm that was Doyoung?

In another timeline, he and Doyoung could have been friends — the best of friends, finding solidarity in loneliness, but it wasn't that timeline, and Doyoung wasn't even at the party.

Taeyong forced a smile before making his way towards the kitchen. He slipped through the crowd like a ghost, nobody even bothering to turn and drunkenly yell at him when he accidentally bumped into them. He preferred it that way too — to be unseen. He made his way into the kitchen just as wordlessly, keeping to himself. There was a throng of people in there, but his eyes flitted to the corner where he noticed two people especially secluded. Taeyong didn't want to pay them any attention, but he was stuck on who they were — Johnny and Mark. He couldn't have forgotten their names if he tried.

They struck him the most because their presence was odd. It was their party, Jaehyun had told him that, yet two out of three of them were huddled in their own secluded corner as if the blaring edm music was no match to the walls of their own little bubble. The few seconds that his eyes fell upon them is all that it took for Johnny's eyes to land on him, and as a subsequence, so did Mark's. The air between them felt electric, and somehow, Taeyong felt as if their eyes on him were deliberate. They weren't looking away. They hadn't turned back. And they weren't even blinking.

Taeyong wrenched his eyes away when he could no longer take their stares. He'd been successful in keeping to himself so far, he needn't have any slip ups, especially with the way Ten's warnings rang in his head, blaring through the cracks of his skull like an overhead police siren. He then did what he needed to do; went to the table, got the drinks, and left. But he couldn't help but feel the eyes still on him, burning hellish holes into his skin. The two brothers still hadn't turned away. He didn't need to turn back to know that.

Taeyong's fingers trembled around the plastic solo cups, and the urge to get away from the kitchen — _the whole house_ — was ferocious. He wanted to leave despite only being there for barely an hour because he'd had enough. So determined on getting out, Taeyong didn't focus on slipping his way through the crowd as seamlessly as the first time. He felt it before he saw it; the wetness of his clothes when he collided with someone with enough force to move mountains.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder to steady him, keeping him there despite his efforts to draw back. His body was shaking with cold, and when he looked up, he was met with dark, familiar eyes. Whether their meets were coincidental or done on purpose is what Taeyong could no longer decipher. It was Jaehyun again wherever he went — _Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun._ Like a neverending presence in his life despite having shown up within the week, and to call him a guardian angel was sacrilegious but fitting. There was a halo above his head, it seemed like, but it had been tainted and tipped under the dark light.

"We should stop meeting like this," Jaehyun mused with a grin, hand still firmly on Taeyong's shoulder. Taeyong's eyes flickered down to Jaehyun's shirt which was also drenched, and he swallowed thickly — he knew what this meant; he owed him again. "Don't worry about it," Jaehyun said, noticing how Taeyong's expression had shifted. He gave Taeyong's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before dropping his hand.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to get drinks for Ten and I, but I was rushing, I think. I—"

"You shouldn't run, Taeyong. It's not safe." Jaehyun's voice had dropped an octave when he cut in, but the change in speech had gone just as quickly as it came. "But it's no worry." Jaehyun smiled, flashing his perfect teeth. "We should get you changed, though."

Taeyong's reflex was to refuse — a trained muscle that had now grown tired from wear and tear. "It's fine."

"Taeyong," Jaehyun told him, something in his eyes clouding over, but the smile on his face hadn't dropped. "I can't let you walk around like this, you're soaked down to your pants.. I know what happened, but other people don't. It looks like you pissed yourself, doesn't it?" Taeyong looked down quietly, wetness travelling between his legs. Something about it felt shameful — humiliating even. "I don't want you to be embarrassed, and I don't want you to be targeted either. You're new, and first impressions count, don't they? Don't they, Taeyong?"

Taeyong swallowed down lava. "They do."

"I have spare clothes here. We can both get changed — separately, of course."

Jaehyun raised both hands as if to verify his innocence. Taeyong chewed the inside of his cheeks raw. Ten's warning of not making a mockery of himself here repeated itself in his head, because people talked and people whispered, and everyone knew too much about everyone to simply _let things go._ And Taeyong didn't trust Jaehyun — he didn't trust _anybody,_ it would have been foolish to do so. But he'd run out of options, the inside of his cheek was bloody from biting, and he was done with thinking.

"Okay," Taeyong told him, taking in a solid, deep breath.

"Good choice," Jaehyun replied calmly. "Come, and then I could drive you home too if you want."

Taeyong hadn't answered the second part of his sentence, choosing to instead follow Jaehyun upstairs in silence. There was nothing in Jaehyun's aura directly screaming at his instincts to get away, but it was going against the grain to follow him like this. They weren't alone; there were still people littered across the stairs, bodies pressed together. His mind flitted back to Ten, and he bit his lips. He had been wanting to leave without telling Ten, and he guessed Ten would now be worried that he disappeared for so long.

Or maybe not. Maybe Ten wouldn't care at all. He had jumped at the chance to come to this party after all, and Taeyong always had a way of dragging people down. Minjae told him that. And in a roundabout, ironic way, it had been true.

Taeyong forced his mind away from Minjae as he followed Jaehyun up the stairs. The room they came to was empty — the only one void of people — and the lights were switched off, momentarily submerging them both in darkness. Jaehyun's hand was beside his head when the light switch flicked on, and his smile was wide. Taeyong watched with bated breath as Jaehyun went over to one of the closets and crouched down to rummage for clothes. Taking his eyes off him, he scanned the room, only to see that it was bare — no posters, pictures, drawings, ornaments, decorations; _nothing._

It was completely bland. And it was cold, exceptionally so. To Taeyong, it felt like a house, not a home. He, of all people, would know.

His eyes darted to Jaehyun when he stood, and they fell upon the clothes in his hand. True to his word, Jaehyun had multiple spares. He handed them to Taeyong wordlessly, an inviting smile playing on his lips. Taeyong forced his eyes away from the dimples in his cheeks. There were too deep. They had always been his weakness. "Thank you.. and sorry again."

"Stop apologising, I bumped into you. You can change in the bathroom in the hall. It has a lock on the inside for privacy, don't worry," Jaehyun told him.

"Thank you, Jaehyun. This... it means a lot."

Something flashed in Jaehyun's eyes. "Don't worry about it."

Following Jaehyun's instructions, Taeyong left the room to go to the bathroom in the hallway. He knocked three times, with no answer in return. His shoulders relaxed back into place when the door creaked open, and he found it empty. The door locked with an almost silent click, and his body fell back unto it. He clutched his chest then, only to see that his heart was racing so fast that it was threatening to rip itself right out of his ribcage. Being alone with Jaehyun had stirred something in him and set his nerves alight. And not because he was afraid, because if this was fear then it must have been a different kind — the one afraid to get too close in fear of falling.

Whether it was the way Jaehyun spoke, or perhaps the way he walked, or how he touched him in the subtlest ways, Taeyong's body was undeniably reacting to it against his wishes. It was dangerous to get close to a man like Jaehyun — beautiful, rich, alluring, something about him making him in every way appealing. He had gotten more words out of Taeyong in a week than most people would have in a month. There was a crack in his walls somewhere, a hole that had chipped, and Jaehyun was scratching at the surface to claw his way in.

Taeyong stripped, changing into the spare clothes he was given. He needed to leave. Ten had left him. Ten wasn't looking for him, Taeyong wasn't _stupid._ And Johnny and Mark's presence in the house alone would be enough to put him on edge for the rest of the night. And there was something about those two, Taeyong noticed when he looked back on it, that seemed... _off._ Their eyes had been void of emotion. Soulless, it seemed, when Taeyong had managed to catch sight of them. The way they had looked at him set his nerves alight.

But Jaehyun... Jaehyun seemed _different._

Unlocking the door with that same barely-audible click, Taeyong stepped out of the bathroom, his soaked clothes in his hands. He was going to see Jaehyun for the last time for a final thank you, he decided, and avoid him at all costs after to ensure, with all his might, that they wouldn't cross paths ever again. But his thought process had fizzled out when he opened the room door and was met with Jaehyun's upper torso exposed and bare, a large scar running down the length of it.

Taeyong stilled at the door, breath caught in his throat as he watched the way the moonlight reflected the taut muscles of his back — each and every string and muscle fibre defined and sculpted. It was invasive to watch him change, and he knew he had to leave, and he was about to, but that was before Jaehyun had turned to face him. Maybe Taeyong's intake of breath had been too sharp or too loud, or maybe Jaehyun had been waiting, or maybe it was neither or both of those things all at once.

The familiarity of Jaehyun's smile was all consuming, and the look in his eyes was indescribable. He drew forward, each step causing Taeyong's heart to constrict in his chest, drained of blood. He released the breath he had been holding when Jaehyun's palm fell on his hips, and Taeyong, for once, didn't pull back. He had nowhere to back into if he tried, but that was a lie he made to justify his own reaction. Jaehyun was touching him, and he was allowing it, and despite the way his touch scorched, Taeyong was _still_ allowing it.

There must have been something wrong with him.

"You know.. it's rude to stare." 

Jaehyun cocked his head, and his eyes flickered downwards to Taeyong's lips. Taeyong dropped the clothes he had been holding when Jaehyun's hand tightened around his waist. His palms were callused, Taeyong noticed distantly, when Jaehyun's other hand came to his cheek to cup it, thumbing stroking the edge of his cheek. Taeyong's eyes locked with his, his mind's reason screaming at him to leave, but a smaller part of him — hidden under all the apprehension — wanted to stay right in his place.

Jaehyun's thumb grazed his lip. "I haven't seen anybody like you before. They don't come around these parts, you know, and never as beautiful." Jaehyun paused, eyes darkening. "It makes me want to..."

_It makes me want to consume you._

But Taeyong couldn't read his thoughts, Taeyong's mind could only conjure endings to an unfinished sentence. Each possibility raised a single hair on his skin, and by the end of it, his hackles had been called to rise. Jaehyun reminded him a lot of Minjae, and maybe that's why Taeyong had fallen into his touch, no real protest falling from his lips. It was why he let Jaehyun slot their lips together. It was why he let Jaehyun's hands slip under his loose shirt and roam the expanse of skin, fingers nipping at the buds of his nipples.

There was still blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek raw, yet Jaehyun licked into the hot cavern of his mouth like a ravenous, hungry man. He hadn't heard the click of the door, nor felt himself get guided away to the bed until the back of his legs hit across a sharp edge. He'd fallen unto the soft mattress and looked at Jaehyun towering above him then — large, dominating, _powerful._ There was something different about him now, smile gone, something teetering on the edge of madness in his eyes and wickedness in his smile.

Taeyong's breath was stolen away when Jaehyun leaned down, lips brushing his ear. His own lips parted and his eyes fell shut while his body gave into pleasure that he for so long had been denied. So he let himself drown in it, let himself be sprawled naked, and he let Jaehyun pull him under, allowing him to whisper, "Thank you, Taeyong."

The questions that had risen from Jaehyun's words had fallen at Taeyong's feet when Jaehyun drilled into him so fast and so hard that it was like the willowy strings that had held together his entire being together were now being unravelled and torn apart at the seams. Taeyong let his eyes fall shut and his body go limp in his state of ecstasy.

Minjae had never given him this. Minjae had never worshipped his body like this. And Minjae's touch had never been so electrifying. And Taeyong deserved this, if only for one night and never again.

He had so so badly _deserved this._

When Taeyong's eyes fluttered open, it was cold, and when his hands had reached out to the side of the bed, it was empty. But, his fingers had touched something — something smooth and sharp around the edges, something unlike silk sheets and something so small that it could fit in the palm of his hands.

His body felt heavy when he drew his bones forward to sit up, and he blinked away the darkness clouding his eyes. He was alone, he registered belatedly, and the room was just how he and Jaehyun had left it. His senses were coming back to him slowly, as was the feeling in his fingertips. He ran a hand over the bed to stand, but suddenly, he stilled. There was still something under his hand, and when he looked down, his stomach lurched.

They were scattered all around him, wherever he looked and wherever his head took a dizzying turn. They were all around him — all in black and white, but all so so _clear._ It hit him in full force; the sight of his naked body in each and every photo drawn into lewd positions. His face was in some, solely his body in others, but in the majority, _both._ His eyes were lidded and his lips were parted in some fucked out daze.

His fingers clutched the edge of the sheets, digging into his palms so hard that it would leave bright, red, crescent marks. Bile rose in his throat, and with trembling hands, he reached out for a single picture. His heartbeat was drumming in his ears as he stared back at himself before turning the polaroid over. There was a number on the other side accompanied by two words in scrawled handwriting.

` **Find me.** `

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been sitting in my wip drafts for a few months, and i can’t believe i got it out.... i cannot even explain what goes on in my mind. do leave a kudo or comment to let me know what you think! it is always appreciated :)  
> [theme pics up on my twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/starhoneyy)  
> [cc activities!](https://curiouscat.qa/starhoneyyy)


	2. Manhunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [themes](https://www.hostpic.org/images/2012291851430309.jpeg)

Time had a way of slipping past that was seamless and unrecognisable. It could have been minutes, seconds, _hours,_ that Taeyong had spent with his mind drawn blank. For a moment, he couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't even begin to rationalise it. He was staring down at himself and at the momentary pleasure that had his features so perfectly unwound even in sleep. He had done this to himself. He had allowed himself to be caught by the needle-like hook and reeled in, and now he could only feel pain as blood seeped from the wound.

He hadn't drank the night before. He didn't get drunk often because he knew what drinking could do to people, he knew of the monsters they could become. So he remembered it all clearly in fragmented pieces, like shards of glass tearing into his mind — Jaehyun is who it all circled back to; Jaehyun's pretty smile, and pretty words, and strong, brutal hands which gripped and bruised in a way that had made him lose his mind.

He _had_ lost his mind. That was the only reason he had ever let them get that far, and it was the only reason that he hadn't pushed Jaehyun away, the sole and solitary reason he broke down his defences to let him in. After Minjae, Taeyong had thought he'd learned his lesson. You don't trust men who were beautiful and spoke with soft words, you weren't supposed to go near them because they burned, because they burned so much that it would always leave him in ashes and ruins.

And that was all he had left now — his own ruin in the form of a black and white polaroid picture. If there was one, there were two, and if there were two, there were _hundreds._

The picture in his hand felt like fire.

The door was pushed open, and Taeyong was met with a strange woman. Or maybe he was the strange one; naked, cold, and alone in a bed that didn't belong to him — in a bed that had nothing but evidence of his mistakes to decorate it like some sort of trophy. Taeyong pulled the blankets up to his exposed chest, shame flooding over him as if he'd been caught in the act itself. The woman had a uniform on, he registered, and she was dressed as a maid. They didn't speak, he simply watched with bated breath as her eyes flicked downwards to the bedsheets and back up to him before she silently closed the door.

He had stayed staring at it for a moment before it came to him. The door had been unlocked. The door had been unlocked for the _entirety_ of the time he'd been there. His mind had gone to Jaehyun at first, the most obvious perpetrator, but who was to say he was truly the culprit? It could've been another man, a woman too, or both, who had come in and seen him like this and taken pictures of his misdemeanours when he was asleep. And Taeyong prided himself on being a light sleeper, but he had fallen into a dreamless sleep and his body hadn't awoken at a sound. He had risen, for once, naturally.

It could have been _anybody._

His entire body was shaking from the inside out, starting at his very core, as he drew the sheets away to place his feet on the solid ground. He could hear the palpitations of his heart when he glanced at the forgotten, discarded clothing from the night before. He picked them up slowly, body not yet coming to terms with his mind, and put them on. They were too big. They weren't his. _They weren't his._ He was in someone else's home. The way the clothes hung around the lithe frame of his body was like a slapping reminder to the face.

Now as quick as lightning, he scrambled to gather the damning evidence, crumpling the pictures in his hand. He was frantic almost — there was too much and too many, and wherever he looked, he saw himself. It was nausea-inducing. But he swallowed down the urge to throw up and collected what he could, carrying them in his trembling arms. With spindly legs, he left the room, clutching the polaroids against his chest. The hallway was empty bar the maid he'd met earlier.

"C-Can you help me get rid of these?" Taeyong asked in a croaked whisper, and he watched as she stilled, broom in hand. She met turned and met eyes with him, surveying him as he squeezed polaroids in his hands. Taeyong swallowed down thickly, praying she could read just how much he was begging with his eyes. He couldn't flush these, they both knew that, it wouldn't work — there was too much and they were far too thick. Taeyong locked eyes with her again.

"Please?"

Maybe everyone in the town wasn't soulless, or maybe she, like Taeyong, wasn't from around there because upon hearing the pleading tone in his voice, she acquiesced. Just as wordless as the first time, she put down her broom handle to rest against the wall and gestured to him to follow with a hand. He faltered for a moment before following her at arms length past endless rooms with closed doors. The room they arrived at was closed, too, but upon opening, Taeyong realised why she had brought him there.

His eyes darted over to the fireplace where flickering flames called him forward. The maid stood at the door, hands clasped in her front as Taeyong offered her a forced, crooked smile before stepping in. The room was warm and decorated, and it had lounge seats, far unlike the lifeless bedroom he'd been in. He wondered if it was truly Jaehyun then, that maybe Jaehyun had brought him to that room on purpose to have his way with him and have a clean background that couldn't be tied to him instead of using a _normal_ room.

But Taeyong hadn't been in the house long enough to know how the rest of it looked like, and he wouldn't come back ever again. Yes, this would be his last time in this cursed place, he reaffirmed to himself as he bent down to place picture after picture in the fire to be consumed by the flames. It didn't help to see them turn to ashes, it did nothing to soothe his soul and the nerves eating him alive because if there were these, there were more. So much more.

 _Who would spend so much time doing something like this?_ Taeyong thought. _It's sick._

The palms of his hands dried and cracked above the open fire, and when it came to the last picture, he drew back. The same number and scrawled handwriting were on them all, accompanied by the letters N and W on the front them at the top and bottom, but this was the one he had chosen to keep — this was the one he had seen when he first opened his eyes, so in a twisted way, he was attached to it. He read over the unrecognisable number and writing with stinging eyes. He still couldn't wrap his head around _why?_ He'd chosen to stick to himself for a reason — quiet, small, painfully unnoticed.

But sometimes people didn't have reasons for doing things. Sometimes they did things simply because they _pleased._

And people like Taeyong were easy targets, he knew that, he knew it because Minjae had told him. Taeyong had a blaring sign on his back — an X marked in black and red and dripping blood. But even Minjae must have had his reasons no matter how twisted and complicated, and despite the long nights he spent awake trying to figure them out. Minjae must have had his _reasons,_ and whoever did this must have had the same. And maybe it was retribution, Taeyong thought, for what he had done.

A cough ripped him out of his thoughts, and he whipped his head back around to face the waiting maid. He blinked at her before realising how long he'd spent stupidly staring at jumbled words, two letters, and random numbers, and then he smiled apologetically. She had things to do, mouths to feed, even if it was just her own, and Taeyong was wasting her time by being here. He gave her another small, apologetic smile before putting distance between him and the open fireplace and exiting the room.

His almost silent thank you went unnoticed, or if she heard it, it was not acknowledged. Taeyong made his way to the steps slowly, heart constricting impossibly tighter with every step closer he got downstairs.

The house had been empty so far, not a trace of life other than the ghost-like maid, and if anything, it was _suspicious._ He felt like he could be grabbed at every corner he turned — like someone would jump out and drag him back inside to one of the locked room doors with their bare hands. The thought, despite how paranoia driven and unrealistic, made him grip the railings downstairs tighter, so hard and so forceful that he could feel the ridges of wood underneath his palms.

And then, he heard it before he saw it.

Voices speaking in hushed whispers coming from somewhere downstairs. It wasn't purposeful, or maybe they knew that he was there, maybe they were the culprits waiting for him, or maybe they weren't, but he wouldn't know until he accumulated enough courage to face them. It seemed like multiple voices, though with the ringing in his ears, it could've been one voice that his mind had somehow amplified. He shut his eyes and then took another step downstairs into his doom.

At once, the voices had halted, and he could feel eyes on him now — fiery and familiar, burning holes into his side. He felt that same way yesterday, those same two eyes on him, so he shouldn't have been as surprised when he came face to face with them, except that he was. His eyes latched onto Johnny first, his large build and brooding demeanour, before skidding over to Mark who was also seated at the dining table, as straight as a pole, but who was looking at him through slitted eyes.

Taeyong was lost for words, eyes darting between the both of them. He felt like he should speak first, it was only right, but he didn't have to, in the end, because Mark had chosen to do so first.

"Are you staying for breakfast?"

"W-what?" Taeyong was sure he looked stupid, borderline delirious, because he couldn't comprehend what was happening to him — or what _had_ happened to him in the last twenty four hours. There was a feeling in his gut — something foreboding, like his body was giving him a warning to get out and _scram._

Mark cocked his head and gestured to an open chair. "Take a seat."

And there was something about the way he said it so calmly, something that seemed fake almost, like it was a practiced invitation, or something with a double meaning. He recognised the tone. It was one that Minjae used often when he'd come home, quiet — _too_ quiet and _too_ calm to seem normal for someone like Minjae. For a moment, he thought he was losing his mind — Mark, with the same dark hair and the same eerily calm aura, was Minjae sitting and smiling wickedly at him. Then he blinked, and the illusion was gone.

It took Taeyong a moment to gather his wits. Mark wasn't asking, it was an _order._ Taeyong scrunched the picture in his hand before taking slow steps towards Johnny and Mark despite the feeling in his gut growing heavier and heavier and louder and louder. Their eyes were on him the entire way, almost unblinking as he took a seat opposite them. At the table, he kept his hands hidden underneath. There were no pockets in the clothing he was wearing, so he was forced to keep the polaroid he kept in his hand and out of sight. The feeling of it in his right palm was scalding.

"You're obedient," Mark began emotionlessly. "Why is that?"

The question seemed like a rhetoric because Mark didn't even let him answer, he turned to Johnny instead and nodded his head once. Taeyong watched as Johnny, even seemingly more obedient than he was, stood up at once to do whatever Mark had asked. He came back just as quickly and set a plate of breakfast food in front of him so that all three of them had one now, like they were some sort of found family, though made up of two brothers and a stranger. Taeyong looked down, the eggs were burnt, and looked back up — it felt like an interrogation with them seated across from him, wordless.

"May I?" Johnny asked Mark. This was the first time he'd heard his voice, Taeyong noted, Mark having done all the talking so far. Johnny's voice was deep and girthy, and it sent shivers down his spine. Taeyong hadn't understood the meaning of his question until Mark answered with;

"You may."

Johnny nodded once before facing forward, but Taeyong could see the way his hand slipped on to Mark's thigh and left itself there, and the way Mark's lips twitched into something close to a smile but barely there. He watched the interaction between them, the wheels in his head grinding against each other slowly in an attempt to understand their dynamic. Something between them seemed... _off._ He knew Mark was watching him, but even then, his eyes were still glued on Johnny's hand.

"You should eat," Mark told him.

Taeyong's eyes darted back upwards to Mark's face. It was blank. "I think I should go home."

Mark disregarded it. "You're in our home, Taeyong. You should learn how to be polite." Mark took his knife and fork, cutting through a thin strip of bacon, metal grating against the plate. The sound caused Taeyong's skin to itch.

But it took a second for it to _click._ "How do you know my name?"

Mark dropped his knife and fork with a clang, almost as if he had never intended on eating it in the first place. He had been waiting for Taeyong to ask that, or he had been waiting for something else, but the food on their plate was cold and inedible. Mark placed his hands on the table in front of him, the polar opposite of Taeyong whose hands were still hidden. Mark squinted.

"Why would I not? Jaehyun would tell me. We don't hide things from each other. Nobody does, Taeyong. There are no secrets in Ridgewood."

And for a moment, Taeyong's breath hitched.

_There are no secrets in Ridgewood._

It felt like the sentence was placed there deliberately despite not being needed. He wondered then if it was Mark who had taken the pictures — if it was Mark and Jaehyun, or Mark and Jaehyun and Johnny, or just _Mark._ There were no secrets in Ridgewood, but he had secrets, he'd had one, but now he had two — and the powerful combination of the both of them would only lead to his downfall. But he would take them to the grave. He'd lock them in his chest and _die_ with them.

In some ways, it felt like he deserved to.

Penance.

"Where is he?" It took Taeyong a second to ask, swallowing down rocks. Mark said nothing, so Taeyong's eyes went to Johnny who had been quiet so far. "Where is Jaehyun? I... He was with me yesterday and then.. I woke up, and he was gone. I need.. We need to talk." Taeyong couldn't hold eye contact with either of them for long, but he braced himself as he added on a, _"Please."_

And then, Mark smiled. And with Mark's smile, so did Johnny. Mark looked different when he smiled, cheekbones sunken and lifted in a way that complimented him beautifully. But there was still a cutting edge to his smile, razor sharp around the corners and rueful edges. Mark looked at his watch, smile still carved out on his lips whilst Taeyong waited patiently — almost _desperately_ — for an answer. He was ansty, and he kept clenching and unclenching his hands under the table. He needed to stop. The sweatiness in his palms would smudge the ink, and if he was devoid of clues, he'd be lost for answers.

Whatever Mark had been timing had come on cue because there was the sound of an engine approaching the house and then maids scuttling their way downstairs. Both Mark and Johnny stood. It must've been their parents.

Mark fixed his collar, his smile growing wider, teeth bared viciously.

"Why don't you find him?"

When Taeyong was eight, he had met his older cousin for the first time. Up until then, he hadn't known of any family members except for his dead grandmother who'd passed away before his seventh birthday. She'd cursed it, he thought, because every week coming up to his birthday had been ruined someway, somehow. The week leading up to his ninth birthday was when his cousin came over, and Jongsuk was fourteen at the time, bigger, older, and terrifyingly tall.

Taeyong was too young to notice the look in Jongsuk's eyes whenever he'd ride around with his bike that had been gifted by their neighbours who didn't have enough space to carry it with them when they moved away. It was too large for Taeyong, too hard to ride, and sometimes the chain came loose, but it was one of the only things he had and one of the only things he could play with. Maybe it was jealousy in Jongsuk's eyes — bitter, green envy that made him do it — but the day of his birthday, Taeyong had woken up to his bike being gone.

Taeyong remembered the madness he felt when searching for it — running around their garden like he was crazed and searching their yard, their neighbours yards, the entire _town,_ only to find it broken by the river side, wet and mangled. It was the same type of delirious madness he felt now whilst looking for a man who had seemingly disappeared into thin air. Jaehyun was gone. Jaehyun wasn't anywhere to be found in the few days that had come next — he was nowhere in sight. And Taeyong was at his wits end.

He'd been suspicious of Jaehyun before, though there was no real confirmation, but for the man to disappear like that... it was too _coincidental._

The three brothers had become two, and by mid week, Taeyong knew that something was wrong. And Ten must've noticed something was wrong, it was obvious that Taeyong had been off kilter, but it was Doyoung who had chosen to speak up, tired of Taeyong being visibly unrelaxed, eyes skirting around the cafeteria, seemingly coming back to one specific table every time. Doyoung paused from eating and placed his food down harshly, so loud that it called attention from people around them and caused Taeyong's head to snap towards him.

Doyoung narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "What is it? Why are you fucking banging your leg up under the table? Do you need to take a piss?"

"Doyoung," Ten hissed like he always did when Doyoung was about to go on one of his tangents or would zero in on Taeyong for a reason unknown to the rest of them. But Doyoung's eyes were locked on to Taeyong, and he wouldn't stop until he got an answer.

"You keep looking over there. Something happened on Saturday, didn't it? They got you to do something for them? Were you unconscious? Was it one of them or all three?" Doyoung questioned.

His tone was sharp, clipped, and covered in a thin veil of anger, but for once, Taeyong didn't feel as if it was directed towards him. And Doyoung was right, Doyoung _knew_ — Doyoung had warned him of them. The three of them weren't any different, Taeyong knew that now, and Jaehyun wasn't any different; he was worse. But Doyoung hadn't told him _I told you so,_ so maybe part of his words were fueled with just as much care as they were anger.

Taeyong contemplated tipping over that bottle of truth locked up inside of him. Doyoung, despite his reservations, could help him, and Ten would, too — he hoped. But there was something holding him back, and a thought struck him suddenly. Who was to say it wasn't Ten himself who had orchestrated it all? Or Doyoung, too? But the thought was far fetched, he knew, and Ten was staring at him now with innocence and worry in his eyes now that Taeyong was looking directly at the both of them. It would be as simple as reaching in his bag for the picture and confessing his sins, but sinners were also prone to telling lies.

"I just haven't slept well. That's why I'm... jittery," Taeyong told him, but he had never been a good liar.

"Get up," Doyoung said.

"What?"

"Get up and go over there. You want to talk to them, that's why you keep staring over there, isn't it?"

Taeyong stilled — it wasn't as simple as getting up and going over there, and Doyoung was downplaying it. Or maybe Doyoung was right — maybe the only thing that was truly stopping him was cowardice and fear of Mark's words. Mark had given him order — Taeyong was to find Jaehyun himself, but the man was _gone,_ his brothers were left, and if they were as warily close as everyone made them out to be, then both of them should know where he was. It was unlike a man to disappear unless he was in hiding, and Taeyong knew of that — he knew it all too well. Actions like that reeked of _guilt._

"I c-can't. I can't just go over there—"

"Why not? Just get up and go. I warned you, didn't I? I told you to stay away from them. You have nobody but yourself to blame," Doyoung spat.

 _"Doyoung!"_ came Ten's voice. "Enough!" Ten then gave Doyoung a warning look before turning back to Taeyong. "Look, he's going to cry. Jesus Christ."

Ten wrapped Taeyong in his arms before Doyoung could get in another word. Ten rubbed a soothing hand on Taeyong's back, thumb caressing him in small, slow strokes. Taeyong hadn't realised it was tears that were plaguing his eyes with that prickly feeling — and it was stupid, embarrassing, and irrational. But it wasn't specifically Doyoung — it was his _words._ They had brought him back to a time in his life he had been trying so hard to suppress. The resemblance in looks was nothing alike, but their words were uncanny.

_I warned you, didn't I?_

_You have nobody but yourself to blame._

Taeyong wiped his eyes angrily, red and bloodshot. Minjae wasn't here anymore, but the effects of such words were still the same. But Minjae, in a sense, had a right to treat him like that. Doyoung didn't. Doyoung didn't know anything about him, and Taeyong had had enough of it. If it was Doyoung's aim to provoke him, it had _worked._ Taeyong pushed himself off from Ten, the man flabbergasted, and stood up, carrying his bag. It was an accumulation of feelings — Doyoung worming his way under his skin since the very day they'd met, combined with what had happened at the party that had set him off.

It was embarrassing to cry like this in public — damning even — but it would never be worse than what would happen if his secret got out. Doyoung watched Taeyong stoically, arms crossed and lips twitching slightly whilst Taeyong challenged him with bitter tears and trembling hands.

"Fuck you."

Doyoung levelled him a _look._ "You'll need that energy. Keep it."

Regret was an emotion eerily familiar. It was one that had a permanent home in his heart — it had left a scar, a gash so big that it would forever bleed. The hole of regret was open now, and it was all he could feel. Regret was caused by mistakes, and meeting Minjae was a mistake he had come to terms with, but his track record had been growing — Jaehyun, the blackmail, _Doyoung._ For now, he regretted his words to Doyoung the most. Looking back on it, Doyoung had wished him well, and his intent was to get Taeyong up and _do_ something. But the adrenaline was short lived, and Taeyong was afterwards left in shambles.

He had attracted too many eyes when he left the cafeteria, two of such being Mark and Johnny — gaze silently locked on Taeyong's figure as he exited. He'd taken the time before his next class to recuperate in the toilet, breathing heavily at the sink from anxiety. It had faded now that he was in the classroom and his main goal was to act normal, but it was still there. Everyone had attended the party that day, so it could've been anyone. It could've been the people sitting around him right now. And he had chosen to take a seat at the very back, eyes roaming everyone in the auditorium.

If it wasn't Jaehyun, in the end, then what was there next to do after the only single stone was unturned? Could he live with the fact that someone somewhere had those photos of him to use for their sick pleasure? Could he live with the fact that they could one day come to him with demands, holding those pictures over his head? If one day he woke up and his pictures were plastered all over the town of Ridgewood, what would there be for him to do? Things spread like wildfire in Ridgewood, and from Ten, Taeyong had even heard stories of people he had never even met.

He couldn't leave this town. He had nowhere else to go, and it wasn't as easy as restarting life in the blink of an eye. It had taken him _months_ to settle down here, and thrusting himself back into the rest of the world would be like purposefully feeding himself to the wolves. Somebody out there was searching for the truth, and Ridgewood was the only place inconspicuous enough for him to hide and bury it with him. If those pictures got out, they would find him.

"Lee Taeyong," the professor's booming voice fished him out of his thoughts. "Come collect your test paper please."

If he was paranoid that people were staring at him before, then his fears had been certified when everyone turned to look at him _now._ Taeyong placed his palms on the table, pushing himself up shakily as he avoided everyone's eyes. The professor looked thoroughly unimpressed through his thick-rimmed glasses. It was quiet as he made his way down to the professor's desk — he was giving out results of their last weekly test, and the man liked to do it in class time so that people like Taeyong would squirm in suspense.

With a rolling stomach, he took his graded paper from an outstretched arm. Before he could leave, his eyes fell upon the next paper that was moved aside because the owner of it wasn't in attendance. In beautifully drawn, cursive letters, Taeyong's eyes landed upon the name at the head of the page — _Jung Jaehyun._

And it was if a bucket of ice cold water had been hurled all over him.

It wasn't the same handwriting.

Jung Jaehyun written right there in front of him didn't match the handwriting he'd seen. There were no similarities. From the way he wrote letters as simple as E and N, Taeyong knew that it couldn't be him. The handwriting on those polaroids were scrawled and messy but continuous throughout and not out of haste — the person who wrote those had taken their time. And it wasn't the same as his. None of it was. Jaehyun wasn't the culprit, and now, he was back to where he had started — _clueless._

"Young man?" his professor said irritably after Taeyong had been rooted in place for too long, eyes transfixed upon one of his papers. He snatched the one Taeyong was seemingly staring at and gave him a hard look. "Back to your seat."

Words were now airy, unfathomable things, but the feeling in his limbs was still there. Taeyong bowed before turning around and making his way back up the stairs to his seat, mind blank. He didn't know what to think anymore, and if his mind was glass, the shards that it had been broken into were now scattered into irreparable pieces. There was no beginning now if it wasn't Jaehyun. The options were endless. But something was tugging at his gut, pulling at his insides, it may not have been Jaehyun, but with Jaehyun's help, he could find another lead.

It would be hard to utter something so shameful, but he was the only one Taeyong could turn to now.

But the man was a ghost. No matter how many times Taeyong's stare was drawn back to the seat Jaehyun would often reside, the man wouldn't solidify from thin air.

"Alright everybody," the professor began when the last graded test was handed out and half of the lecture time had already passed. The man stood up and circled his desk to stand in front of it, leaning back on the desk with his hands and surveying the students with his eyes. His eyes locked with Taeyong's momentarily, but Taeyong was the first to avert. "The next thing on our agenda will be projects. Paired, not grouped, a fifty way split because I have had complaints from the board about group work," he went on.

Taeyong's ears perked up as he went on to explain a paired art research portfolio. He didn't like working in groups — he wasn't a fan of the invasive questions masked as small talk or wanting to know him better. His social circle back then had consisted of him and Minjae, occasionally with the addition of Minjae's little sister or older brother. Taeyong's heart ached to think of the little girl, but as far as Minjae's older brother went, he was just as sick and twisted as Minjae was. Taeyong chose not to think of the man with wandering hands and dark, lidded eyes. He could _choke._

Taeyong was fished out of his thoughts by a chair screeching beside him. People were pairing up, and he hadn't noticed, so lost in thought. It was a bad habit that he needed to nip in the bud, but it was hard when daydreaming was all he'd done for so long. But that didn't matter now. There was someone sitting beside him, facing him with a large, wide, inviting smile and tan skin. There was something boyish about his looks despite his largeness, and he wasn't deterred when Taeyong simply stared at him instead of shaking his hand. Taeyong's eyes fell to his sinuous neck and the man-made shark tooth necklace adorning it.

"I surf," the stranger told him, noticing what Taeyong was staring at. "There's a beach around here, but the waves aren't that good. I usually go away for the Summer to do it. Ridgewood beach isn't the best."

"The waves are shallow," Taeyong said suddenly. And it was if the man's eyes lit up with a thousand stars, finding companionship in someone like Taeyong. But that wasn't it. Taeyong didn't know how to surf, but he was well accustomed to Ridgewood's beach. He couldn't forget the feeling of water and sand grinding of his feet the night he had come in even if he tried. "I don't surf," Taeyong added rigidly.

The twinkle in the man's eyes didn't dim, but he nodded in understanding, shoulders deflating a little. "I get it. Can be a bit scary for first timers, honestly." He smiled. "My name's Lucas, by the way."

They were silent for awhile, but the chatter around them made up for it. Taeyong didn't understand why Lucas — or someone _like_ Lucas, with dazzling smiles and golden skin — was here with him, trying to converse. He didn't understand why someone like Lucas would approach him to be his partner, and after what had happened with Jaehyun, he was all too wary of men too pretty and too friendly. But Jaehyun was different from Lucas in a way — there was something about Jaehyun that had been open, yet somehow reserved.

Taeyong, looking back on it, knew nothing about him. Lucas, on the other hand, looked as if he wore his heart on his sleeve and would tell Taeyong anything if he so much as asked. It was a dangerous trait to have, Taeyong knew from vivid experience, but he wasn't in the business to warn him.

He belatedly realised that Lucas was waiting for an answer when the crinkled smile in his eyes smoothened over. "Taeyong," he told him. "It's.. it's nice to work with you."

Taeyong didn't shake his hand — he would avoid any physical contact due to some form of consuming, illogical fear of the worst. Taeyong's bones bolted in place suddenly, staring at Lucas. It could have been _him,_ whoever this stranger was, it could have been _him_ who'd taken those pictures and was now taunting him with that innocent smile when the answer was right in front of him. Lucas looked innocent, angelic even, but Taeyong knew better. He had been the same once, he used to be the picture perfect image of it.

"What's this?" Lucas asked suddenly.

Taeyong looked over to what Lucas was staring at before scrambling to cover it up, alarm bells ringing in his head. Lucas had seen it. Taeyong had been absentmindedly scribbling the numbers and letters N and W from the polaroid onto his page so that he wouldn't forget it. It was etched into his memory now, digits burned into the back of his mind, and he had thought that if he wrote it, it'd somehow click. But he came up with nothing — nothing but scrawled, jointed numbers staring back at him on a white, lined canvas.

"It's just a phone number of a friend," Taeyong said breathlessly, the lie falling like liquid through his teeth and his heart thumping in his chest.

Lucas raised a curious brow. "That's not what it looks like to me. But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Taeyong took the time to churn over his words. "What does it look like to you?" he asked slowly.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a twinged blush growing on the apples of his cheeks. "I know it doesn't look like it.. but I'm really good with numbers. Maths and Geography. I'm a geology major, actually, and this is just my elective."

Lucas then paused his eyes as if to gauge his reaction — maybe he'd had people judge him based on the way he acted and looked, but Taeyong, more than anyone else, knew just how strongly looks could be deceiving. When he found — or didn't find — what he was looking for in Taeyong's hardened features, he went on.

"I think..." Lucas started. "They're coordinates. They look like the set up of coordinates."

Taeyong's mind _broke._

Phone numbers, serial numbers, anything but that. What Lucas had suggested didn't even cross his mind, and he wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. He'd spent so much time punching in those very same twelve digits, but it was too short to come up as anything substantial — his phone didn't even ring because it wasn't recognised as a number. And he knew it now — the realisation was like a harsh slap to the face, grounding him to reality and tugging him back to earth. The world had stopped spinning on its axis for the passing seconds that Taeyong used to recollect himself.

"I hope you don't mind," Lucas said carefully. He then glanced around the classroom as if he knew — as if he somehow _knew_ — that it was a secret, before he took the papers from Taeyong's limp hands and placed it down on the table. "But look. These first six digits are read as latitude, then the second six as longitude, if my guess is right. I only thought of coordinates because it seemed to long to be a phone number, and you wrote the letters N and W. Sorry if I'm wrong."

"No," Taeyong started, shaking his head and swallowing thickly, mouth cotton dry. "No, go on. How... How would you read them?"

Lucas smiled, genuine, before gesturing for Taeyong to come closer. They were shoulder to shoulder like this, and there was a certain tenseness shrouding his being, but if Lucas noticed, he didn't comment. With a spindly hand, Lucas picked up one of Taeyong's pens and rewrote the twelve numbers in six digit increments, separating the first pair from the second. He then scribbled some symbols and two letters around them before explaining what they were.

"Twenty four degrees, sixteen minutes, fourteen seconds, north," he said, pointing at the first set of letters. He then turned to Taeyong with a raised brow, almost as if he was waiting in expectation for Taeyong to confirm that he understood. It didn't take more than another millisecond for him to understand it.

"Fifteen degrees, twenty nine minutes, twelve seconds west," Taeyong said, reading over the second set of numbers. Those were the numbers written across all of the polaroids, and this stranger — Lucas — with his innocent allure and friendly gestures had helped him crack the code that had driven him to the brink of madness in the dead of the night. Taeyong's eyes flickered to Lucas, who was beaming at him, and back to the numbers he had memorised.

**`241614152912` **

It was brilliant.. it was—

"Genius," Taeyong blurted, still shellshocked. "You're a genius."

"Thank you.." Lucas scratched his head. "Technically, I do have a pretty high IQ so—"

But Taeyong wasn't listening, he was too fixated on finding where he needed to go. And there was no guarantee that the answer would be wherever he was being guided to by ominous words and numbers, but he would never know if he didn't _try._ What would happen was unknown, and what he would say to them was unclear, but the next step was right in front of him. It was irrational and unthinking, but he shot up in his chair, class dismissal given just as Lucas spoke, ready to leave and confront whoever was playing some sort of twisted game with him. He didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for _any_ of this.

"Where are you going?" Lucas questioned, grabbing his arm as Taeyong stood. Feeling Taeyong's body harden on instinct under his touch, he retracted his hand slowly, peering up at Taeyong with wide, doe eyes. "Do you know how to use these?"

Taeyong blinked at him. No. No, he didn't. "I don't," he admitted.

Lucas glanced at the people filing out of the auditorium and then drew his gaze back to Taeyong, eyes falling down. He looked.. _shy_ almost. But Taeyong couldn't analyse what it meant — he didn't _want_ to know what it meant. He would keep Lucas at a distance, he had learned his lesson. It was the same thing he should've done to Jaehyun — it was the same thing he should've done to _Minjae,_ because he wouldn't have been in this predicament if that hadn't been his origin. He never would have met Jaehyun, and he would've lived the rest of his life blissfully unaware of the man-made cruelty in the world.

But he had the fatal habit of falling for men with one thing in common — it was the enticing look in their eyes and inviting smiles that attracted him.

Taeyong found himself being pulled down, like gravity was the force in Lucas' eyes. He took in a deep breath, words falling his lips in a quiet whisper. "Could you show me?"

Lucas smiled. "Of course."

With each step he took towards his destination, the trepidation in his stomach multiplied ten folds. He knew this route, but he was scared that with ever passing second it would be truly where he feared. His heart was in his throat, clogging it, and he lessened his pace as he approached, feet screaming at him to turn back and run for the hills. Taeyong contemplated leaving it — letting them have it, letting them one day coming back for blackmail and peacefully living with that fact. But he had come so far. He had come so, so _far._

They had sent him on a useless chase. They had him running around like a madman. He had even gone on some sort of manhunt. But he was back to the beginning, and the irony of it all was that he had come full circle. He had come back to the place where it had happened.

It took him awhile to muster the courage to knock on the door, the fear of what — or _who_ — was on the other side holding him back. And they must've anticipated his return sooner or later because when Taeyong put his hand to the door handle, it was already unlocked. It was dangerous to leave it open like that, but he supposed nobody would be brave enough to step into a mansion owned by The Brothers — or specifically, Mark Lee and Johnny Suh. He didn't know whose second name they took now that they were step siblings, but he wasn't going to ask for information he hadn't been told.

The less he knew about them, Taeyong thought, the better.

Relief washed over him when he stepped into the empty house, but it wasn't a good thing in hindsight, it meant that they were lurking in and watching somewhere or that they weren't at home. And if the house was empty and Taeyong was forced to leave, he was unsure if he'd ever step foot back in it again. Taeyong took tentative steps inside, noting its quietness. He couldn't hear _anything_ — not even the bristling of a maid sweeping the floor upstairs.

And like an unassuming victim in broad daylight, he was snuck up on by a hand to his back. Taeyong jumped and snapped around to face Mark who was staring at him with a terrifying smile. With widened eyes and a galloping heart, he retreated until his back was met with something _hard._ Taeyong's muscles locked as two firm hands came down to hold his shoulders, imprisoning him so that he couldn't escape even if he tried.

"You're quicker than I thought you would be," Mark said, eyes glinting with something indescribable. His eyes then flickered back to who was holding Taeyong in place with shackle-like hands. "To the living room. He's a guest."

Upon hearing Mark's orders, Johnny grunted and fixed his hands from Taeyong's shoulders to his arm whilst Mark turned to go in the direction of the kitchen. Taeyong's fight or flight was kicked off immediately as Johnny guided him towards the living room area, and he writhed under Johnny's arms. It was a bad idea coming here, Taeyong knew now, a bad, _bad_ idea. He tugged at his arm in one sole attempt to be let free, but Johnny's grip tightened, painful almost.

"I don't want to hurt you," Johnny whispered.

It was a damn lie, Taeyong knew men like this, he probably got off from the fact that the fact that Taeyong was squirming even slightly underneath him. Minjae was like that, too.

Taeyong forced himself to relax and allowed himself to be brought to the living room. It was beautifully furnished and had decorations that he was sure cost hundreds — _thousands,_ even — but Taeyong couldn't pay attention to its intricate aspects of beauty, not when his mind was running wild with possibilities of what was to come. As Johnny let go of him and Taeyong sank into the sofa, his eyes darted around in search for an escape route in case worse came to worst.

He didn't think they'd hurt him, or perhaps that was just the prayer he held so tightly onto or wishful thinking, but that thought wasn't enough to stop the fear vibrating in his veins.

Johnny looked over him, and it was as if he was visibly displeased just by Taeyong's presence. If Taeyong wasn't a man born and bred in cowardice, he would've screamed at him that he too _didn't want to be here._ It wasn't his choice. It was Mark's. Or Jaehyun's. Or all of them. Three sick bastards set on ruining his life. He couldn't believe it. He still couldn't believe it — he hadn't thought Jaehyun was capable of such a thing, but he had been naïve and abysmally foolish to not have heeded Doyoung's warning.

He should've stayed clear of the man with soft smiles and moon-like dimples, and he should've noticed the madness in his eyes, hidden by the dark when they slept together. But he wasn't faultless. He had nobody but himself to blame, falling for the wrong man again. And what was the result? Jaehyun wasn't even here to save him from whatever was going on — he was nowhere in sight. He should've known that Jaehyun, of all people, would not be his prince charming.

Taeyong's eyes went past Johnny to Mark who was now making his way towards them, a clear glass of water in hand. Taeyong ran a tongue over his bottom lip unconsciously as he approached, but denied himself what his thirst craved for when Mark put out a hand for him to take it. "Drink," Mark told him. "You're a guest, and I can only imagine the trouble it was to get here. It must've been far. You look _pale._ "

Taeyong wished hopelessly for colour to return to his cheeks so that Mark wouldn't know the effect he had on him by simply being in his presence. There was something oddly _off_ about him and the way he looked at him — it was hollow, and his tone was always passive except for in times of command where Taeyong could feel the tangible sharp edge of his words. It was as if he was wearing a mask, and there was something dark burning underneath, clawing at the inside and waiting to be unleashed. Being under Mark's eyes made his skin crawl.

Taeyong looked to Johnny then, but Johnny's gaze made him want to run into a hole and hide. "Take it," Johnny said. Taeyong shook his head. He couldn't. Not when he didn't know what was inside.

"Do you think.." Mark raised a brow. "That we would poison you? The water is clear, Taeyong, don't be stupid." Mark's words were as blank as they always were, but the blow to his intelligence was hurt. Mark tipped the glass in his hands, tilting it so that droplets of water were dangerously close from spilling over the edge. "There are better ways to die. For an art major, I would've thought you to be more inventive."

Taeyong didn't question how he knew that. Taeyong had the sinking feeling that they knew _everything._

"Take it," Johnny said darkly.

Mark, he could continuously deny, but Johnny looked seconds away from strangling him. The fear of getting hurt was now very real when he looked at Johnny — a brute in the way he talked, walked, and acted. Taeyong could hear the drum of his heart increase as he took the cup with noticeably shaky palms. His fingers brushed Mark's, and it made him jolt, water spilling over the glass from its sides. Mark's eyes twitched at the action, but he said nothing. And then, Taeyong placed the glass to his lips and _drank._

It tasted like nothing.

The water was devoid of impurities — it may have been sourced from the highest of mountains because there was seriously nothing wrong with it. It made Taeyong realise that he had been worrying for nothing. He took a few sips before placing it between both hands and to his chest as if to centre himself. He needed what he came here for. And he should've planned better — he had only had a vague outline of what he was to say, but as he approached their all too familiar house, the words had dissolved like acid upon his tongue.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Taeyong asked. "All of this... If I've done something to you, I'm sorry... I'll.." Taeyong paused when he remembered. "I'll pay you back. I'm sorry for breaking Jaehyun's laptop. I'll save money to pay you back—"

And for the first time, Mark's expression broke out into something less stoic. Mark, in all his glory, tipped his head back and _laughed._ Taeyong's body froze at the sound. It was beautiful and light, punctuated at certain points as it rose from high to low. Johnny, too, seemed calmer at the sound of it — relaxed even, and he too smiled, if only slightly. Taeyong had to narrow his eyes to see it. And then Mark's laughter faded, and he faced forward, his lips quirked upwards and eyes upturned sharply.

"You think," Mark began, "it's money? Look around, Taeyong. Don't be _stupid._ " Mark hummed, and Taeyong registered how true it was. They were drowned in wealth. They needed no material possessions in which someone like Taeyong could offer them. It was like comparing rags to riches — it was _insulting._ "I see why he took interest in you. You're different."

Mark cocked his head. "Why?"

Taeyong didn't know how to answer that. It was the same sort of question Mark had asked him before. _Why_ was he different? Was it the way he acted? The way he talked? The question made no sense, and Taeyong didn't have enough brain power to process it — it would be tucked amongst the other things that Taeyong couldn't yet decipher.

"Where is Jaehyun?" Taeyong asked instead, voice strained. "The pictures.. he— you—"

Mark took a menacing step forward. "He what?"

"He— he—"

"I find it irritating when people can't get out their words, Taeyong." Mark came closer, like he was a hunter and Taeyong was a prey about to be under the fire of his steely pistol. Taeyong opened his mouth to speak, but Mark was quick with placing a hand to his jaw, fingers curling around it and digging into his flesh. "He what? He fucked you open with his fingers before you spread your legs? Or did you open your mouth first? Spit it out. What is it?"

Mark _knew._

"The pictures," Taeyong whispered, tears springing in his eyes, "T-the pictures he took."

Mark's grip didn't loosen, but the aura surrounding him lightened, appeased slightly by Taeyong's compliance. He was so close now, bent over so that they were face to face, and Taeyong could smell his rich, warm scent — thick and heady as it clogged his airways. Mark's fingers on his chin made it throb, low and painful, and behind him, he could see the way Johnny's smile grew with each passing second, eyes glinting with glee. Johnny was one of three foul beasts, and Taeyong had stepped into the lion's den.

"Pictures... pictures..." Mark repeatedly slowly. "I don't recall. You're going to have to be more specific, darling."

"Jaehyun, he— he—"

Mark's fingers dug harder into his flesh, but before he could utter another venom filled word, a voice boomed from the stairway.

"Let go of him."

Mark paused, and Taeyong froze, blood running cold. Mark drew his head away to see Taeyong's saviour. It was Jaehyun coming down the stairs — but it wasn't him at all. This Jaehyun didn't have a warm smile, this Jaehyun's posture was rigid and unapproachable, and this Jaehyun oozed darkness with every resounding step he took forward. And when he met Taeyong's eyes, Taeyong could see that there was something else lurking in the depths, something that he had kept so well hidden — something that made Taeyong _terrified._

"If you run, I will chase you," Johnny said suddenly, as if sensing Taeyong's thoughts to push Mark off, get up, and _run._

Mark let go of his jaw, but the indents of his fingers had already been imprinted into Taeyong's flesh. Mark stood upright and schooled his features. "You're late," he said with finality.

Taeyong's eyes scampered between the three of them, trying to figure out what form of silent communication was going on. The air was so thick that it could have been cut with his pinkie finger.

"Sorry," Jaehyun said as he approached. "I slept in." And then, Jaehyun smiled, the one Taeyong was used to seeing — the one Taeyong _knew._ But Taeyong hadn't known him at all. He had slept with a practical stranger, falling for pretty words and even prettier smiles. It was the dimples, he surmised. With Jaehyun, with Minjae, with Lucas. It had been his weakness.

Taeyong remembered Jongsuk — how Jongsuk had smiled as he lied to Taeyong's parents about bringing his bike to metallic ruins and getting away with it. It was similar to the smile Jaehyun was giving him now — wide, open, and honest, something so believable that if Taeyong was watching from the outside in, he would've thought Jaehyun as a honest, God fearing man. With each deliberate step forward, Taeyong felt dread engulf his being. Jaehyun, he knew now, was unpredictable. He was unpredictable because the way he looked and the way he acted didn't match his intentions.

 _Whatever_ his intentions were.

And then, Jaehyun stopped in front of him, holding out something between his fingers like it was a playing card — a jack, a king, a queen from a deck. It was the polaroid staring back at him, one he hadn't seen before, the other ones had him sprawled out on the bed, naked, asleep, and covered in wet cum, but this one had Jaehyun in it too. It wasn't Jaehyun that had taken this picture, and it was _during_ the act, not after it.

"Caught in the act. It's a shame that this is the only one of its kind, though. The rest of the ones Johnny took didn't really have my face in them. I was almost surprised you didn't hear him come in or the door click, but your moans were that _loud._ I'm sure it travelled through the walls and back downstairs. Tell me, Taeyong, did I really fuck you open that _good?_ "

"You're... You're disgusting," Taeyong spat.

He stood up then because he couldn't stand how much Jaehyun loomed over him when he was seated. And for a moment, he thought he'd seen something flash in Jaehyun eyes — something different, something akin to _guilt._ But it must've been a trick of the light. "I haven't done anything to any of you. I broke your laptop and paid you back with what you asked for. Why are you doing this?"

Wheels grinded in his head, cogs clicking into place. The laptop... the bathroom... the drinks spilling on his shirt at the party.

"You approached me on purpose."

When no answer came, Taeyong took that as a confirmation. He shut his eyes and breathed out, grip around the glass growing tighter, trying to control the rage and anxiety bubbling within him. "What will you do with the pictures?"

"Whatever we deem fit," Jaehyun replied simply.

Taeyong couldn't believe the words that had come out of his mouth, and he'd had _enough_ of it. He didn't deserve this. He hadn't wanted to be a target of whatever game they were playing. In one short burst of anger and irrationality, he chucked the cold glass of water on Jaehyun, dousing him from head to toe.

As soon as he'd done it, he regretted it, and his eyes jumped between all three of them — Mark who was watching as if the whole ordeal was nothing but casual entertainment, Johnny who was smiling like a madman, and finally, Jaehyun who took the time to wipe a hand down his face before closing his eyes and breathing out evenly, as if trying to control his rage.

Taeyong took a step back, but the back of his knees was met with the edge of the chair. He knew he had a short window of time to get out, mere seconds even, and he'd take his chances to outrun Johnny if it meant coming out alive. It had been a mistake to even come here — it had been a trap, and he knew it now. Through his peripheral vision, he spotted the front door still ajar. Without spending another second to linger or allow Jaehyun to speak, he dropped the glass to shatter on the floor before legging it in the direction of the door, just as Jaehyun's attention shifted to nod at Johnny.

They must've anticipated it — knew that Taeyong's first instinct when the going went tough was to run. Mark sidestepped him and put out a leg. It was enough for him to trip and falter but not to fall. His heart was thudding in his chest as he ran to the door, hearing no footsteps following him from behind. It was so close — the door was so, so _close,_ and he'd leave and never come back.

But just as his hand reached the door handle to tug it back, a hand went around his legs and yanked him back so he came crashing down on the floor. Taeyong propped himself up on his elbows and tried to scramble backwards and outside, but Johnny's firm hold around his ankles held him down no matter how much he kicked. He heard a laugh in the distance, one that irrevocably belonged to no one other than Mark.

"Let go of me!" Taeyong yelled, panicked, but Johnny had caught him and was crouching at the head of his feet, watching Taeyong with a curled smile like Taeyong was the wild boar that had been caught in his bear trap. Taeyong kicked relentlessly but to no avail. And then his head snapped towards Jaehyun who was approaching slowly, head bowed and dark hair falling over his eyes in a way that made him look menacing. Taeyong's heart thundered in his chest, the fear rooted in his very bones locking him in place.

Jaehyun came forward and stepped over his body so that Taeyong was now also between his legs. He bent to hunch over Taeyong's body so that Taeyong was trapped under him. Taeyong's hackles rose as he came face to face with the eyes of a beast. But Jaehyun was quiet, delicate even as he used a wet hand to graze Taeyong's cheek, thumbing over the edges, affectionate like a lover. Taeyong felt as if his heart was going to burst out of the glass-like confines of his chest, and he hated the way that it was from equal parts fear as it was unbridled attraction.

"What do you want from me?" Taeyong's lips trembled as he spoke.

"Everything," he answered after a beat. "To put it in simple terms, Taeyong..." Jaehyun's stroking stopped, and he scoured Taeyong's face, a soft smile growing on his lips. The words he whispered next struck Taeyong down to his very core.

"We want to _own you._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope you all enjoyed this update! thank you so much to everyone who left a comment on my very first chapter. i had been scared to publish this because of some of the themes, but i’m happy to know that some people are enjoying it, at least! it seriously means the world to me. kudos and comments are, as always, appreciated! <3  
> [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/starhoneyy)  
> [cc comments and questions also welcomed](https://curiouscat.qa/starhoneyyy)


	3. Lights Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [themes](https://www.hostpic.org/images/2101170752540307.jpeg)  
> !Reminder To Read Over The Tags Of This Fic Again! They Will Be Updated!

Taeyong had seen this dream before.

It was vivid in detail — from the clear smell of cedar and smoke to the rich and musky cologne that was distinctly _not his._ It was no question of who it belonged to. And he was sitting on the edge of a large bed, fingers coiled around the red, silk laden bed sheets with vice grip and sweaty palms. It was as if he was watching the scene replay over and over again whilst knowing how it felt to be in it — how the hair all over his skin had risen with mountain-like goosebumps and how his body had burned with unmatched fear with as he waited for Minjae's return.

It was evening time, and he'd been waiting for over an hour, each passing second signified by the tick of the clock, causing the sound of his heartbeat in his ears to somehow increase tenfold. He'd been in this particular scene a million times. He'd experienced something similar one too many, and yet, the terror that struck him down to his very soul was always the same when the door to their master bedroom opened. He was dreaming, he knew, but it was never lucid. He couldn't control the heavy feelings in his limbs, nor the twisted feeling in his gut — he could only scream inside his mind for him to run, to leave, and to never come back.

But it was always the same, and he was locked in place as the scene went on, Minjae stepping forward with a baleful look in his eyes.

Even then — _even when he knew what was coming_ — Taeyong's first thought had been how beautiful he was. How handsome he looked with his suit jacket discarded, how the veins in his arms bulged when he rolled up his white, dress shirt sleeves, and how that hand — so powerful, so large, so once loving — could cause so much pain. It was once used to caress, but those days were in the past — when Taeyong hadn't done what he did, when Minjae hadn't done the same in retaliation. Those days were over. And the dimples in his smile often felt like a faraway thing.

Taeyong wondered if he had conjured up their existence the whole time.

The scene was the same, and yet, he was never numbed to its effects. Taeyong stilled as Minjae approached, anger flaring in his aura and flames being fanned by the fear in Taeyong eyes. It is a punishment, Taeyong knew. One in which he deserved. And yet, when a palm so calloused and so warm struck him again, the blow causing him to spit blood and his ears to ring, he found that he couldn't take the punishment. Pain bloomed over his cheek like it was a fresh wound.

Taeyong put a hand to his mouth, teeth biting down on his soft palm to stop himself from crying out. But it was impossible to hold back the river threatening to spill over the banks. Minjae drew back and towered above him, lips curling upwards in a snide smile, the look he wore half satisfied, half angry, yet something in them still so loving. Protective. Possessive. His love had metamorphosed into something new, something dark, something to make a normal person terrified. But Taeyong wasn't normal. When almost sadistic pain brought pleasure, that wasn't _normal._

Minjae paused to lean down, the same hand that had dealt him pain now rubbing over his cheek tenderly, drawing circles in a warm manner. Taeyong's breath hitched as they met eyes, a coal like lump in his throat. "I warned you, didn't I?" Minjae whispered. "You have nobody but yourself to blame."

Taeyong kept his mouth clamped shut.

The scene was always the same. The dream was one of many.

Taeyong jolted from bed, covered in slick filled sweat running down from his head to his toes. He blinked away the vestiges of sleep from his eyes and the images that came along with it. But it was like it was still there behind his skin, digging its way behind his eyeballs and flashing in bits and pieces — the bed, the dark room, the pain, and the contradicting softness of Minjae's hand. It had been so long, and yet, he still remembered it all in vivid detail. Like he was still there. Like he was still with _him._

Taeyong pulled himself to sit up, a wave of nausea rising with him as he did so. He closed his eyes and prayed that the incoming feeling of sickness would go away — prayed that the nightmares routinely causing the morning sickness in the first place would just _go away._ He was sick and tired of it. He couldn't get away even now that they weren't together physically. It was funny, almost, because Minjae had once told him that he couldn't be gotten rid of even if Taeyong managed to get away, and till this day, his words rang true.

He clutched his head as he ran to the bathroom, the sudden urge to vomit hitting him at full speed. Over the sink, nothing came out, but the feeling of nausea still plagued him. He dry heaved, stomach empty and hands clutching the sink's pristine, white sides as his chest rose and sank in an uneven rhythm. When he'd finally gotten a grip on himself and the sick feeling subsided, a new feeling overtook him, one that he couldn't pick apart if he tried. Among other things, it was a mixture of deep rooted nervousness, fear, and palpable anxiety at the memory of three of them.

_Taeyong's eyes widened at Jaehyun’s words, the request — the **order** , the **demand** to own him falling easily from the cusp of his warm lips. His mind ran a hundred miles a minute, unable to fathom Jaehyun's words. To own him. To possess him. To cage him with them? It was too broad, too vague, yet it was enough to have Taeyong wanting to crawl into a hold and die. He didn't know them, but he didn't want to discover what they were capable of, either._

_Jaehyun ran the hard tips of his fingers from the edge of Taeyong's cheek down to his bottom lip where his movements then faded into a gentle caress. And then, his eyes flitted from Taeyong's face to the open door just past his shoulders — the one that Taeyong had tried and failed to bolt out from. Something in his expression told Taeyong that he was amused. Perhaps it was the way his eyes lit up when Taeyong visibly trembled, or maybe it was amusement at himself for the ability to still smile invitingly as he spoke._

_"Now..." Jaehyun whispered, leaning down so his lips grazed Taeyong's ear, causing razor-like burns on his skin, "run."_

He'd narrowly managed to escape them, but it was foolish to think that they wouldn't return for him. Taeyong wasn't stupid, he knew better. And Jaehyun had let him go that day out of kindness, not because Taeyong was capable of setting himself free, nor because he kicked and screamed for Johnny to loosen the grip he had around his legs. They had let him go because they enjoyed watching him flee uselessly, like lions watching a gazelle, predator to prey, dancing around him until they could sink their teeth in.

And for a short-lived moment, Taeyong considered the plausibility of simply disappearing from school. He'd shown no signs of having a cold, a runny nose, or whatever ailment he needed to get out of it with an excuse. He didn't need Ten asking where he'd been, and he hoped that the three of them would forget about him if he suddenly didn't show up, as unrealistic as it was. He considered just... _disappearing._ Just pulling the magic act he had pulled off so brilliantly before and getting out of sight.

But he couldn't afford to go anywhere else. Not for his safety. Not if he didn't want to be found. And he had been lucky the first time, but people like Taeyong weren't born with luck, and he had a wrenching feeling that it wouldn't be the same case a second time around. His chest tightened as he stared at himself in the clouded bathroom mirror, face gaunt, before turning away to prepare himself for school. In the shower, he let the hot water scald his skin whilst he got down on his knees, hugging them close until the water ran cold. Tears pricked his eyes, but whether he was crying was unclear, droplets lost to the waterfall.

He let it soak him. He prolonged the time he normally spent in fear of getting out. And then he stood up, knees cracking as he stepped out shakily, the muscles in his legs having grown numb. He continued his morning as drawn out as it had started, each second that passed causing tendrils of dread and anxiety to grow within him and wrap around his being like a vine. And still, when he checked the time, it was early. His nightmares always woke him up far before his alarm, and it was funny, almost, because he could've used that instead. His body had its own wound up clock that sprung to life as soon as his dreams reached a distinct turning point.

Gathering his bags, he stilled when he heard the unmistakable honk of a car outside. He paused before his eyes widened and he straightened. He made his way over to the cold windowsill, feet dragging, before he tightened his fingers around the curtain's tether and pulled back. It was a car — large, square, black, familiar. It took a millisecond for him to realise who it belonged to. He'd seen it parked at Mark and Johnny's mansion, amongst the other ones as he walked in the day before, but he'd taken note of it in particular. It stood out, someway, somehow, from all the other smaller, coloured ones.

He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of who was inside, breathing paused, but the windows were tinted. The car was waiting outside for him, though, and there was no questioning that, nor was it a question of who was inside. Mark, Jaehyun, Johnny. It didn't matter. They were all the same. But the answer came to him in the few minutes he'd spent staring at the car, wishing that it'd by some divine intervention disappear. The door to the driver's seat opened and he watched Jaehyun emerge, dressed just as polished, put together, and attractive as he always was. He rounded the car to the other side, leaning back against the front and crossing his arms.

He looked small like that, Taeyong thought fleetingly. Like if he put a palm to the the window, Jaehyun would be crushed beneath his hand. So easily, so quietly, and without mercy. But when he pulled back the palm he'd used to cover Jaehyun's figure, he noticed the change in Jaehyun's head and eyes. They were tilted up, staring at the window now — staring at _him._ Like he saw Taeyong's creeping figure, like he knew that Taeyong had been watching him the whole time.

The roles were reversed, and his earlier thought had been ridiculous — he couldn't crush Jaehyun from so far away. Not when, up close, Jaehyun was so much bigger, wider, _dominating._ And he was staring at Taeyong now, eyes boring into his soul like he could uncover every secret hidden within him simply with his gaze.

Taeyong drew the curtains to a close abruptly, trapping Jaehyun outside — or _himself_ inside. He leaned back, clutching the edge of the sill with one hand, the other on his chest to feel the galloping of his heart. He didn't know how Jaehyun could do that to him; how Jaehyun could twist his insides with his stare. It made him feel warm — a heated flame — but also sick; nauseous at his own wrongly wired thoughts. He gathered his wits again and got his bag before making his way downstairs and to the front door to meet Jaehyun. There was no point in prolonging it any further because at the end of the day, it'd always reach the inevitable.

"Get in," Jaehyun said as soon as he stepped outside. When Taeyong took an extended moment to reply, Jaehyun cocked his head and smiled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning back to get a good look at him. "Good morning, doll. I guessed we skipped a few steps. I'll be taking you to and from school."

Jaehyun didn't ask. Every word he spoke was sweet, as if he was speaking to a friend or a lover, yet the level of command behind it was obvious. And it didn't take more than that for Taeyong to follow. It was instinctual, the urge to obey drilled into him by Minjae, or perhaps it was fear, or maybe he did it because he _wanted to._ But that thought was treading dangerous, dangerous waters. Jaehyun grinned — those despicable dimples that had lured Taeyong in one too many times coming to life once more.

Jaehyun opened the door, gentleman-like, for Taeyong to enter. He watched Taeyong slide in with an innocent smile — or one that had seemed so innocent before Taeyong had gotten to know what was lurking under its depths and until he figured out its true meaning. He didn't dare look Jaehyun in the eye either in fear of what he'd find. "It's just for your safety, Taeyong. You're new here. It's dangerous to go around blind."

 _For his safety?_ Taeyong could have erupted in maniacal, brain rattling laughter.

Jaehyun spoke as if he wasn't the biggest threat to Taeyong in the present moment. But he couldn't tell Jaehyun that. He couldn't tell him anything. All the way from the door and into the seat of his Jaguar, he couldn't find it in him to say anything. The car was warm when he entered and the gas had been left running. It was thoughtful, in a way, but he chose not to get comfortable. He couldn't relax even if he tried, though, especially when Jaehyun rounded to enter himself. Taeyong's hackles rose when he realised when they were in a confined space alone, interior dark and quiet, nothing but the low hum of the car.

Nerves skittered over his skin as Jaehyun turned to him and watched him passively. His face was blank, but his eyes — his _eyes_ — were dark and clouded, like he was dissecting him. And Taeyong wondered how he hadn't noticed it before. How he'd let it get this far before putting two and two together. And suddenly, he found his voice that had disappeared.

"You don't have to do this..." Taeyong started quietly before gaining traction. There was an underlying plea to Jaehyun's humanity that went unsaid. "You don't have to take me," he clarified.

"I want to," Jaehyun answered almost immediately. "I wouldn't do something if I didn't want to, would I?"

Taeyong understood the double meaning to his words. He was insinuating that Taeyong wanted this. Like Taeyong wouldn't be here if he didn't _want to._

"I had no choice," he said, looking out of the window to his small, tattered home. Homes were meant to shelter, to protect, but it did nothing to keep a barrier between him and the demons lurking outside, and he knew that one day you'd always have to take a step outside regardless.

"There's always a choice, Tae. People who say otherwise are frauds and cowards."

There was something in the way he'd said it, like he was speaking not just to Taeyong but to _himself_. Like advice he wished he'd taken with him and put to use. Like words that he had only come to realise because they'd come too late. But Taeyong didn't question it. He wasn't looking to get involved with Jaehyun. He was acting almost normal now, but Taeyong had seen his true colours already and he couldn't get that out of his mind. Jaehyun, Johnny, Mark, the three of them had acted like monsters. Like hunters in the way they'd lured him in and let him go in a false act of goodwill. But the bear trap they set wasn't just in their home. It was in the entirety of _Ridgewood._

He was drawn back to attention when Jaehyun leaned over him, body coming forward until he was hovering above him. His joints locked in place as Jaehyun's hand hovered above him, and for a moment, he believed that Jaehyun would strangle him. Like Jaehyun would strike a hand on his cheek like Minjae did. And he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the sharp sting that never came. Instead, Jaehyun used a hand to unwind his seatbelt and pull it across him before fastening it in place. That was it. That was all he did. And it was Taeyong's fear and painful paranoia that had made him expect otherwise.

But when he opened his eyes, Jaehyun wasn't gone. Instead, he was looming over him, body close and face even closer, so much so that Taeyong could feel the warmth of his breath as they shared the air between them. Taeyong's eyes were forced to meet his for the first time since he'd stepped out, and his breath hitched as they did so. A charged bolt struck his spine from Jaehyun's unreadable gaze. His eyes flickered down to Taeyong's lips, and then his free hand came to cradle Taeyong's cheek. His other hand was gripping the door handle, as if to cage Taeyong in his arms and crush any fleeting thoughts to escape.

His hands were cold, Taeyong noted, the same way they had been the first time they'd met, and his presence was all consuming. Taeyong's lips parted lightly as Jaehyun's thumb stroked his lower lip. He was unable to tell what he felt — what the urges inside him were screaming at him to do — too rooted in place by dread and anticipation. Jaehyun's eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes again, reading him like an open book, before he leaned in, pushing closer until his lips were on top of Taeyong's.

Taeyong didn't kiss back. He was as still as a statue when Jaehyun's soft lips met his own. But Jaehyun was undeterred. Jaehyun tilted his head and kissed him tenderly, fingers tightening almost unnoticeably around Taeyong's jaw. His teeth bit down on Taeyong's bottom lip, not hard, but sudden enough to pry it open in mild shock. He found himself kissing Jaehyun back as Jaehyun's warm tongue explored his mouth, like he was trying to map each crevice and outline and then commit it to memory. Taeyong's heart thumped against his ribcage, and he felt his limbs go loose with each second Jaehyun took to dig deeper, sucking his breath away.

Just as Jaehyun pulled away, Taeyong's hands tightened around the edges of the leather seat of his chair. He released it in time with his own breath, eyes trailing from Jaehyun's lips to his eyes. His stomach curled in on itself, and he found his throat had clogged. Maybe Jaehyun was equally affected as he was because he was quiet when he stared at Taeyong for a few moments afterwards, he was quiet when he restarted the engine to the car, and he was quiet when he drove Taeyong to school in an almost thick, suffocating silence. But he had spoken up once throughout their ride, tone blank.

"You always have a choice."

Jaehyun's words had set off a cosmic chain reaction. _Choice._ Taeyong had been presented choices with choices all his life that had never truly been choices. To live or to die. To stay quiet or to risk punishment for voicing his thoughts. For running away or staying in the home he'd grown up in. To tell the truth or to feed them lies. They were all choices, but choices had consequences, and each choice he'd chosen had made him end up where he was now. Choices and mistakes went hand in hand, and Taeyong could no longer afford bad choices.

When he was six, he had made his first important choice, one with dire consequences. It was simple, though — to tell his parents the truth or to lie and get away with it. He'd been naïve to think he'd get away with it, though — the age old question of who'd stolen the cookie from the cookie jar. Taeyong had put his hand where it didn't belong and lied about it, and it had been the last time he'd ever chosen to do such a thing. The five pumps of dish soap he was forced to swallow were a reminder not to tell such lies. Even now, there were days where his mouth felt bitter and wet, like soap was sloshing around the inside every time he wanted to tell a foul lie. It had been rooted out of him like a thick weed from an early age.

There were no choices. Jaehyun hadn't given him one. If there was ever a choice, it had been disguised because the answer to follow their every order was clear. Taeyong wasn't a fraud, nor was he a coward, Jaehyun was simply a _liar._

A hand came down to his own, ripping him out of his thoughts. His eyes went from the pen wrapped in his hand to the tan hand engulfing his own and then to its owner. Lucas was seated beside him in the auditorium, looking at Taeyong with child-like confusion. Lucas chanced a glance at the lecturing professor before whispering to Taeyong.

"Are you okay?" His large doe eyes glittered innocently. "You're going to snap it if you hold onto it any tighter."

Taeyong's looked from Lucas back to the pen, and suddenly all too aware of Lucas' large hand on his, he snatched his hand away. For half a second, Lucas looked hurt, face falling a bit like it always did whenever Taeyong rejected one of his friendly advances. Taeyong felt guilt worm its way up his skin, causing him to turn away from Lucas, not able to stand the look on his face otherwise he'd do something _stupid._ The need to please could be overwhelming at times — so was the want to stay far away from people, but at the same time, for them to like him. To offer silent reassurances. But he couldn't find solace in Lucas. He had once in Minjae. People were all the same.

Lucas pulled back, giving Taeyong space to breathe. He paused before taking a piece of paper to write on and passed it to Taeyong's side of the desk. The noise of the professor had been drowned out as he stared at it. Lucas' handwriting was scrawled. It looked similar to the one written on the polaroids, in a way. But he wasn't stupid. Lucas had nothing to do with it. He wouldn't have helped him if he had. He answered Lucas' question about whose place they could use to get started on their project and slid it back over, not sparing a glance at him. Lucas was quiet for the remainder of class after that, and Taeyong was thankful for it.

That same relieved elation didn't last, though, because as he stood to leave, Lucas' same large hand grabbed one of his shoulders. Taeyong stiffened again, bones melding into one. Lucas retracted his hand quickly like he understood Taeyong didn't like to be touched by him. Or by strangers — too close and too personal for someone like him. Lucas cleared his throat as Taeyong turned to him stiffly and looked around the emptying classroom, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

"Yes?" Taeyong prompted when Lucas hesitated too long.

"Um, you haven't actually given me your number." Pink dusted his cheeks. "For school purposes. Your address and stuff since you said you wanna do it there. But like, you can change your mind or whatever. My place is free if you wanna come over to work on it during—"

Taeyong wasn't listening to Lucas ramble, though. His eyes had unfocused on the boy in front of him to instead fixate on the exit door past him where Jaehyun stood, staring at him. His expression was passive, but every time he was greeted by someone on their way out, he'd smile. Jaehyun's expression could shift so easily, so seamlessly that you wouldn't notice the corruption hiding behind his crinkled smile. It was perfectly practiced, adding to the irresistible allure that had made Taeyong fall right into his arms.

And then his eyes were back on Taeyong again — nothing visibly different unless you were looking into the cracks of his beautifully woven mask. Taeyong saw past it, he saw past its chipped edges with the way Jaehyun's jaw ticked and hardened with each passing second he spent with Lucas and with the way his thick eyebrows furrowed slightly. He signalled for Taeyong to come forward with a hand despite Taeyong being visibly stuck in conversation.

Taeyong's eyes skid back to Lucas and his semi-awkward rambling. "I have to go."

He swallowed down thick, dry air, stomach knotting into a spiderweb of nerves as he tried to sidestep Lucas and approach Jaehyun. Taeyong had been one step away from him and one step closer to Jaehyun before Lucas latched on to his arm again. He looked back at Lucas whose expression was filled with so much plea that Taeyong felt guilt slither on his skin again. He saw himself in Lucas — in Lucas' _eyes,_ and in the end, that was what made him stay. They exchanged numbers, and Taeyong moved with a certain visible jittered haste that he was unsure how Lucas didn't question what he was running from — or running _to._ But he was thankful for it; that Lucas, like Ten, didn't ask questions.

When he pivoted to the door, he realised he was too late. Jaehyun was gone.

Taeyong's eyes gravitated towards their table. It was instinctual, and no matter who you were, you'd spare a glance at their table — maybe out of plain curiosity or the want to be them. Rich, respected, privileged, _untouchable._ He was drawn to it instantaneously when he entered the cafeteria and the aura it exuded. It stood out from the crowd with the two empty tables beside it, and he knew it now — that should've been his warning from the very beginning, to ensure his eyes didn't stray. But Taeyong was human, and he'd even caught Doyoung sparing them a few glances in the past. Hypocritical, Taeyong thought, but at least Doyoung wasn't a liar like he was.

He promised he wouldn't go close to them, if not to Ten and Doyoung, to _himself,_ and yet, here he was approaching them as if there was a rope tied around his neck, pulling him closer and asphyxiating him all at once by the force used to drag him along. He'd locked eyes with Jaehyun when he entered, and Jaehyun had crooked a single forward — the beginning of the rope that had snuck itself around his neck. The tray of food in his hand trembled with the earthquake of emotions that had channelled itself out of his heart to manifest itself physically in his tired limbs. He dared not to make eye contact with anybody, facing straight ahead, but he could still feel other eyes on him — beady, dark, like ants crawling all over him.

Then suddenly, a hand on his arm spun him around.

"Where are you going?" Ten asked. He had his own tray of food in hand, and when he looked down at Taeyong's own threatening to spill over in his hands, his eyes and tone softened. Concern washed over him. "Sit with us. Doyoung's waiting at the table already."

Taeyong took a quick look at Doyoung who had already sat down at their usual table, arms crossed in waiting. He was unable to read the look he wore, but when it was Doyoung, it seemed like he never could. "Not today. I'm sorry. I'll be with you guys again on Monday, I promise."

His mouth felt bitter at the lie, and Ten had sensed it too, immediately answering. "Will you, Yongs? Will you really?" Ten questioned. He knew Taeyong couldn't guarantee that. They _both_ knew that Taeyong was crafting his own spiderweb of lies. Ten sighed and pulled him closer to murmur. "It's fine if you don't want to sit with us for now, okay? Just.. stay out of trouble."

Taeyong watched him leave without another parting word. A small piece of him was surprised Ten hadn't tried to stop him any further, and the words he'd given were too vague. Maybe if the warning had come two weeks ago... a month ago... _a year ago,_ then he wouldn't have been in Ridgewood at all. But he was, and he was beginning to accept his fate. Though, when he turned again to face the three brothers, he was reminded that acceptance meant doom in more ways that one. And the impending feeling of it only grew larger as he approached their table.

Quiet conversation halted unnaturally, like it had been sliced in half by Taeyong's mere presence. Jaehyun wore an unrepentant smile, but Mark was the one who'd chosen to talk first.

"Sit."

Taeyong looked between the three of them before he did so. He was beginning to understand their dynamics, if the subtle cues they gave off meant anything. Johnny wasn't looking at even looking at him, but his hand was placed upon Mark's thigh the same way it had been when he'd come face to face with them in their kitchen after that horrid night. Jaehyun held his own quiet position, but Mark was the one with an air of silent authority — the littlest, the smallest, in looks and in words, yet the largest undertone of command that had him following his orders.

Taeyong took his seat, heart setting alight and threatening to leap right out of his chest and unto the table, half alive and bloody. "You wanted me to sit here—"

"No," Mark cut in sharply before he could continue. "I said here."

Taeyong's breath hitched when he registered what Mark was referring to — the open space on his lap. From his peripheral vision, he could see that they were being stared at like a circus wonder act. Taeyong had tread where no one else had dared to — the lion's den, and he was already regretting it. Anxiety pushed itself upwards inside of him, rising and rising until he was consumed by it, but his hesitation had caused irritation because Mark placed firm hands on his waist and dragged Taeyong where he thought he'd belonged. Shock engulfed him when Mark's light hands wrapped around his nape before his fingers tightened in his flesh, and he pushed Taeyong's head forward until they were face to face.

"What did I tell you before?" Mark questioned. His voice wasn't quiet, but it was in the cafeteria. He could hear a pin drop. "Get your words out, Taeyong. I don't like hesitation. I don't like stupid puppets."

"I'm not stupid," Taeyong said, words falling on deaf ears.

 _He wasn't a puppet,_ he should've said, but the proof was right in front of them. He hadn't said it because it wasn't true. And Mark's lips twisted in to a sick smile at his answer, even Jaehyun at the other side of the table threw his head back and laughed. Johnny, on the other hand, was still ominously silent. Mark's fingers dug further into his neck and pushed him forward until they were lip on lip, chest on chest. Taeyong's knee-jerk reaction was to tug away, but Mark's hand around his thigh and neck was unyielding.

Mark kissed differently to how Jaehyun did, with no tongue, and his lips were cold, whereas Jaehyun's were warm. He kissed like he wanted to take away Taeyong's air slowly instead of all at once, like a bottle crumpling in on itself by the inwards pull of gravity. There was no emotion behind the kiss, not fiery like Minjae's, not passionate like Jaehyun's, simply.... _pallid._ The feeling in it was slowly changing, but before he could even think to explore it, he was yanked away by an arm. He knew of the owner.

Johnny.

Taeyong was still on Mark's lap, but his body was twisted forcefully by his arm to face Johnny. Johnny snarled at him, and Taeyong jerked back, feeling his heart palpitating in his chest. There was a certain rage in Johnny's eyes that made Taeyong scared. Not the type of lurking rage he'd seen in Jaehyun, nor the silently deadly one in Mark, but the palpable one of Minjae's — like he wanted to wrap a solid hand around Taeyong's slender neck and throttle him until he couldn't breathe. He looked half a second away from doing it in fact, but the tension was broken by another voice. One that didn't belong to the three of The Brothers.

"Get your filthy fucking hands off him," Doyoung ordered, words as chilled as ice, standing to the side of the table with narrowed eyes. "Now, Suh," he ordered.

"Fuck off," Johnny growled, eyes fixated on Doyoung instead.

The momentary distraction allowed Taeyong to get away from him — from _all of them,_ food abandoned. He didn't have an appetite anyway, and he'd vomit it all, he knew. And no meagre cafeteria food was worth stepping any closer to them. Johnny was staring at Doyoung harshly, but Doyoung's look of pure hatred was no match for him. Mark was stoic, quiet, observing, like he was analysing the scene before him, lips twitching. Taeyong didn't dare look at Jaehyun at all. He instead took his place by Doyoung's side, finding comfort in familiarity, even if it was from someone who often seemed to despise him.

"Don't start this here," Jaehyun interrupted. "Both of you. You're making a scene," Jaehyun said as if he truly cared. Taeyong had a feeling that he probably thrived in the attention or maybe that he found it entertaining. But even Jaehyun couldn't diffuse a set off spark.

"The three of you again. Are you not tired of this? Are you not sick of it?" Doyoung went on, ignoring him as his eyes bounced between the three of them.

"Are _you_ sick of us?" Mark asked easily, eyebrows raised. "If so, then leave. You should've done so when Hyejin did."

That was the gasoline to Doyoung's flame, Taeyong realised, because Doyoung lunged for Mark in that very moment. Johnny shot upwards and stood in front of him, as if daring him to layer a finger on himself or Mark. Doyoung was fuming from his ears whilst Mark leaned back casually against the table, watching the showdown between his step brother and Doyoung unfold, fingers tapping against the table boredly. Taeyong was unsure where to stand, but he was aware that Doyoung — always calm, always eerily composed — was half a second from going ballistic, and fighting Johnny would be a gravely losing battle before it'd even begun.

"Don't," Taeyong told him, approaching Doyoung carefully, wary not to set off a ticking time bomb. "It's not worth it, and I don't need.... I don't need you to fight my battles."

At his words, Doyoung's head snapped towards him. It was true. Taeyong had gotten himself into this spiralling mess, and he didn't need to drag anyone down with him. Doyoung certainly didn't deserve it. And Doyoung, himself, looked like he was convincing himself of it, too. He hadn't needed to help Taeyong. He hadn't needed to step in when nobody else would. It wasn't in Doyoung's heart to be a good samaritan, it never had been, but the fact that Doyoung had shown him this... Taeyong had to prevent himself from crying. Even if it never happened again, he'd remember this moment for the rest of his godforsaken life.

"Sick freaks," Doyoung spat.

It was his stand down — his last words before he stormed out of the cafeteria. Taeyong's shoulders slumped in relief, but it wasn't over yet. Johnny snapped his head to the crowd watching intensely, and at once, they returned to their conversations like what went down had been nothing. Mark reached a hand out, an action meant to soothe Johnny who immediately took it and sat down. With his small window of opportunity, Taeyong made to leave but was stopped before he could even think to follow Doyoung out.

"Come here," Jaehyun ordered, making his presence known.

Taeyong didn't turn around. "I need to go after him."

"That's cute. But come here first, doll. Don't make me ask twice," Jaehyun said casually. Taeyong's bones were rigid. "Or.... I could bend you over this table and fuck you so hard that we won't need the pictures," Jaehyun went on, voice dropping to a deep, low chord. Taeyong whipped around when he heard the distinct noise of something being placed on a table, like a phone. Jaehyun's. He then held it up, screen dark.

"Your choice."

Taeyong's eyes went between him and the phone in his hand. There was no evidence of the pictures being there, but he had them, Taeyong knew. He had them and he'd use them. The way Jaehyun looked at him — grinning, smiling, lovely and soft — was so different to his words that it gave Taeyong whiplash. But he didn't have a choice in it. Jaehyun was a liar when he'd told him there was always a choice. _No._ This was a one way road he was forced to drive on with a blindfold over his eyes and no break to step on. He could only move forward, knowing that each step closer would bring him to a fatal collision.

He stood in front of Jaehyun, heart thumping in his chest. From his periphery, he could see Mark watching their exchange closely and Johnny, too, but his eyes were distant, and his hands were squeezing Mark's under the table with deathly grip, like he needed Mark beside him not to lose it. Jaehyun brought him back to reality as he placed his hands gently on Taeyong's sides and pulled him near. Taeyong's gut wrenched with the bad kind of butterflies.

"It's Friday today," Jaehyun began, tilting his head up to get a better look at Taeyong while he himself was seated.

"I know," Taeyong replied, voice dry. "I can't.. I have project work today. I'm not free."

"I didn't ask. Education is important, doll. You have to make use of it. You paid for it with your hard earned money, didn't you?" Jaehyun went on. Taeyong did not. It wasn't his, and the paranoia buzzing inside his head told that Jaehyun knew it. Jaehyun knew everything, everything, _everything._ Thumbs caressed his waist, and then Jaehyun's hands moved to pull him down so that he could whisper in Taeyong's ear. "But if I wanted you today, you'd come, wouldn't you?"

Jaehyun paused. "Clear your schedule for the weekend."

Fear swallowed him whole. "Why?"

Jaehyun smiled, pulling back so he could search Taeyong's eyes. A hand came down to Taeyong's cheek and brushed against it tenderly.

"Initiation."

In class, Taeyong's phone screen brightened with a notification. It was from Doyoung, he took note, sucking in a breath as he hid his phone on his lap under the table. There was one unread text from Lucas, but he clicked past it in search of something he deemed more important. Doyoung had never texted him before. He hadn't even known Doyoung had his number.

``

`DOYOUNG  
I don't know what they have on you.  
I don't care either.  
Get out of there. I won't tell you twice.`

Taeyong read the text over. He read it once, twice, thrice, before his hands tightened around the device on his lap. It wasn't as simple as getting out of it. Doyoung knew nothing. Nobody did. It wasn't even a case of pride — Taeyong's was long gone if that was the only case. What little was left of his pride had been picked apart by Minjae's very hands, fragments tossed away into the deepest depths of the ocean. What sliver of pride he had left wasn't enough to keep him sturdy and alive — _no._

He had come to Ridgewood for a reason, and be it by an airy god's will had he lasted this long, so the notion of getting found was enough to make him _terrified._ Those pictures would be his demise.

An itch wormed its way up his skin. He needed to wash his hands.

At home, Taeyong's pen scratched inaudibly on the page. It was mindless, illegible scrawl on a page to show his restlessness. He was supposed to be concentrating on his half of the assigned work he'd gotten when he and Lucas split it up, but three Brothers were invading the four corners of his mind. Taeyong avoided questions — avoided _curiosity_ because he always ended learning too much and treading into dangerous waters. He'd learned to keep his nose out of it and his head down, but curiosity was now bubbling up inside of him again.

Jaehyun. Johnny. Mark — Terrible, taunting, and terrifying. Three unstoppable forces set on ruining his life worse than Minjae had. He could feel that the resulting calamity would be worse that anything he'd faced in his life, deep down in his bones. They'd chosen him long before he met them, he knew, and they'd chosen him because he was _easy._ He wanted to know what they wanted from him, why they were doing this, and just how far into the abyss of their carefully planted trap he'd fallen into went on. When he couldn't take the self questioning anymore, he looked up. There was someone who could give him answers right in front of him.

"Can I ask you something?"

Lucas broke off his steady rhythm of typing on his computer and pushed it down off his lap. He turned so that his full focus was on Taeyong, face keen and eyes bright. Taeyong turned away from him before continuing with his question. The lack of answers was driving him mad. It was like diving into the shallow end of the pool with his eyes closed, no landing in sight.

"... What do you know about Jaehyun, Mark, and Johnny?"

Something flashed over Lucas' expression, something more serious, less lively, less innocent, but the brightness that had dimmed in his momentary weakness was put back on in full force just as quick as it had gone. "What do you want to know about them?"

"Everything." Taeyong swallowed, hoping the begging in his eyes was evident. "Whatever you can tell me." The question was too vague, so Taeyong came up with something more specific. "What do they call themselves that? Brothers."

"They are," Lucas answered straightforwardly. "They're close like that. Sort of closed off since they were kids. Like a pack. Like siblings." Taeyong noted Lucas' lack of usual enthusiasm and hand gesturing when he spoke of them, instead replaced with a tone of seriousness and a distant, thinking look in his eyes. Lucas leaned back on the chair he was seated on. It was small. All Taeyong's furniture was. He had no need for anything else, and the way he'd left didn't allow him to bring anything substantial.

"Johnny and Mark Suh have become siblings, so I guess they've managed to make it official. Johnny's father married Mark's father."

"His father?"

Lucas clicked his tongue. "Yeah. Both of their wives died. Suicide. Mark and Johnny's dads joined their companies after it."

The way Lucas treated the subject had an air of blandness surrounding it — causality, maybe. Like those things happened often in Ridegwood and Taeyong was to get used to it, too. He wondered for the short second used to gather his thoughts if it was him — if he would be just another mark on the list of Ridgewood deaths. He'd felt it the night he'd entered; something dark looming overhead. It was the feeling of death. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about Jaehyun's parents, but Lucas cut off that wandering train of thought.

"They stick to each other, that's all I can tell you. They don't take interest in people often, but when they do... we call it _the black touch._ "

Taeyong peered at him. "Like.. rats?"

Lucas blinked before bursting into laughter — small at first with slow, warm chuckles, before his shoulders began to shake and he went teary eyed at Taeyong's allusion. Lucas' large hand swatted his back lightly, and then when Taeyong's phone lit with a notification, he kept laughing. Taeyong reached over the table to get it, thoughts of Ten or even a repentant Doyoung, but it wasn't Ten or Doyoung at all. Seeing their names on screen wouldn't have made him clam up. It wasn't them who screamed trouble.

`JAEHYUN  
Enjoy your study session, doll.  
Remember what we said about owning you...`

Lucas quietened, seeing now that Taeyong wasn't laughing along with him.

`JAEHYUN  
We can be a bit picky about our possessions, Tae.  
We don't like what’s ours to be touched.  
You won't let him touch you, right?`

"Funny... Not the black death, the black—"

"You have to leave," Taeyong impeded. He watched as Lucas' face changed to stunned and simultaneously flickered his eyes down to Taeyong's phone. Taeyong turned the phone off, but a part of him knew that Lucas had seen it. He avoided Lucas' eyes. "Now... _please,_ " he added on quietly.

He'd expected Lucas to argue against it, complain that they weren't finished yet, that they needed more time, or to simply ask why. But Lucas only stared at him wordlessly for a pregnant, palpable beat before quietly packing up his things. It wasn't a look of rejection he wore, it was one of _understanding_ — like he'd seen the texts, like he'd known Taeyong's reasoning, his paranoia, and his fears. That same look burned his skin when Lucas stopped, hands gripping the handle of the door.

"We can work at the library next time," Lucas suggested. "My fault for insisting on one of our places. That probably made you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry." One of his hands went to play with the shark tooth necklace laying prettily on his tan skin.

"It's fine," Taeyong said and Lucas nodded.

Taeyong wrapped his arms around himself in a caged, warm hug as the door opened and shut in Lucas' wake. It was cold when he was lonely.

Taeyong found himself in front of his bathroom mirror again at night, bulb vibrating overhead, because he was too afraid to sleep and let the nightmares he had take over again. It was too late for the whirring speed of his thoughts and there was exhaustion dripping from his bones to his fingertips, and yet, he was here, awake. His hands gripped the edge of the sink, body swaying slightly as he reeled at ringing sound of his phone. He shut his eyes and waited for it to stop and for the texts to come in, ones which would remain unanswered despite the consequences.

`JAEHYUN`   
`Pick up. Your lights are on.  
I want to take you somewhere.`

Taeyong ignored him.

His mind drifted to Lucas' earlier words and what little he'd learned in that time. He wasn't special. He wasn't the first person they'd taken interest in, and he wouldn't be the last. Whatever game they were playing with him now would be over quickly. And the thought made his gut coil uncomfortably — the idea of being discarded. Thrown away. That same sinking feeling he'd gotten when he'd spotted an almost invisible red mark on Minjae's neck and the impulse he'd gotten straight after. There was a certain feeling of madness that had clawed at his mind that time, and he felt it itch him again — under his skin, in his eyes, in his rotted brain.

Spots dotted his vision when his eyes flickered over to the pair of scissors he'd laid in the sink. But they weren't in the sink anymore — they were sitting in his hands. And then they were in his hair, cutting away at the ends, slowly at first before the chopping turned sporadic, and uneven bits of blonde hair cascaded down into the sink and others pooled around his feet. He blinked furiously at himself in the mirror, shearing away at his hair, dangerously near the skin of his head, red clouding in his vision.

When the scissors were gone and he saw what was left was his reflection, he wanted to cover it up so that he wouldn't have to see himself again. He felt the urge to smear blood across it and paint himself red. To taint it and then have to rub it of the grime in the morning.

The phone that rang again to the left of him was like a wake up call — clearing his vision and snapping him back out of his own man-made nightmare and into a new one. His hair was his beauty, and he'd gotten rid of it. Minjae would be mad if he were here, Taeyong realised. He'd be mad he had nothing to hold on to. He'd be mad that he'd gotten rid of something that'd made him so beautiful. Taeyong stared at himself blankly as the phone rang. The bulb in his bathroom flickered out, and he was plunged into darkness.

Lights out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter, it’s sort of the calm before the storm. kind of. yes, a lot honestly. there was a lot thrown in here, too....
> 
> kudos, comments, or general feedback is always appreciated :)! i’d love to hear your thoughts  
> [twt](https://mobile.twitter.com/starhoneyy)  
> [cc comments and questions also welcomed](https://curiouscat.qa/starhoneyyy)


	4. Initiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [themes](https://iili.io/fzF3PI.jpg)  
> Clarifying that this fic is Jaeyong _main_. Jaeyong! If you guys think I should change the tags to add or subtract things, then always let me know!
> 
> Warning: Generally Unhinged Behaviour. This fic will only get worse in some aspects, so if you need to back out before or after this chapter, I completely understand. This does _not_ represent the boys in real life, and I will clarify now that there will be no Taeyong death nor full blown sexual non-con. 
> 
> Thank you.

**8 MONTHS AGO**

Taeyong's heart hammered in his chest, breath catching in his throat as he took another step forward in the depleting line of people ahead of him.

It had grown dark, and the dock was already blanketed in the warm evening air, but it felt like ice on his skin — a shiver running down the edges of his spine and tingly feeling buzzing underneath his dry palms. But he had washed them hours before the taxi had taken him to the dock, and then he had washed them again when he arrived, afraid that, somehow, they'd see the damning grime on his hands. Like they'd see what he'd done and punish him. Like they'd grab him by the hair and pull him underneath the ship and drown him because that was the death he deserved.

The chatter around him was dull, more so now that he was alone. Hanging off of Minjae's arms had taught him how to tune into others' conversations, how to listen and nod when he was given the cue without having to be told. The affinity to eavesdrop came easily, but as the line moved up and the voices ahead and behind of him grew more excited, he found he couldn't listen to them. He couldn't distract his running mind, nor put a boulder-sized rock in the path of the cogged wheels in his head to stop them from turning.

The scent of the sea had soured before his departure because now, to him, the water had been tainted. The ocean breeze tasted rancid in the air, and a distinct scent of chlorine clogged his nose. His bones tightened as he took another step forward to the ticket collector with his single bag of luggage in tow. The man was dressed in a fine suit and had slicked back hair. And when it was Taeyong's turn in line, he looked down on him like they all did — like Taeyong was the gum underneath their shoes. He stuck out like a sore thumb, and the way his hands trembled as he gave the man his ticket caused the collector to stare at him for a beat too long — eyes falling from his legs, to his torso, to his gaunt face and the lost look in his eyes.

He looked like a man on the brink of ruin.

"This is a ticket for two. A couples ticket." The ticket collector paused, eyes flickering from the golden sheet to Taeyong again, and Taeyong prayed he couldn't hear the loud thumping of his heart. But he could. He could hear it cracking in his ears. He could hear it begging to be let free from the monster that'd kept it trapped — a monster whose heart didn't deserve to _beat._

"Your partner?" The man cocked his head.

"Alone." Taeyong’s mouth felt dry as he spoke. Dry and tart, like he had swallowed a block of soap, and the back of his throat had become raw and scratchy from the chemicals. "I'm alone."

There was another pause, and the chatter silenced as they stopped to stare at him, like they all knew he didn't belong. He didn't fit in. Not dressed as he was and never without Minjae. The man studied him with a critical glare, and Taeyong steeled himself instead of averting his eyes because only guilty men had something to hide. But it was if he knew — like the eyes that were carving holes into the front of his head knew — and yet, he smiled, gracious. He handed Taeyong his ticket and turned back to the men helping people enter the cruise ship.

"Let him in."

**PRESENT DAY**

Taeyong's legs curled up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and drawing them close until the bones of his knees dug into his chest.

He shut his eyes as the tide washed in near his feet, swashing around him before retreating and repeating its cycle over and over again — always close but never close enough to touch. It was different now that months had passed. He could stand to be near the ocean — touch it briskly, even, with his fingertips, but he could never find the courage to take a step further, in fear that he'd be pulled down into its swirling abyss. But he felt close to it. At home, somehow. Just a little connected to its nothingness and vastness all at the same time.

He had come to Ridgewood beach a few hours after cutting his hair and finding himself unable to fall asleep. He watched the dock on the further side where'd come through as his thoughts ruminated. He sat and watched it, wondering if he could go back, wondering if he could turn back time and never have ended up in Ridgewood in the first place — wondering if he should've stayed and faced the consequences of his actions instead of running away with the ticket Minjae had bought them. A couples ticket. A getaway. And get away he did.

Taeyong stood, the nitty and grittiness of the sand grinding underneath his soled feet. He had contemplated vanishing again, but he knew _he_ would find him. And Jaehyun would, too.

He had lasted this long in Ridgewood because of where it was and how he'd gotten there, but any other location would've given him up. By fair means or foul, he had evaded death — he had gotten out of the clutches of the man who'd kept him imprisoned, but now, he wondered if his freedom was worth it. Was the escape worth it? For how long would he have to run? Would he have to stay in Ridgewood for the rest of his life? Time had slowed down without Minjae by his side, and now, there was nothing in the future left for him.

His eyes stung from the salty air of the sea, but he blinked away the tears. He had to leave now. He'd spent too much time here, and they would be wondering where he was, especially since he left his phone at home. Thinking of Jaehyun's text made his stomach twist again and prevent his feet from taking another step forward off the sandy beach and back towards his empty home. They could be waiting for him, and after Taeyong had ignored him yesterday, Jaehyun was probably outside of his door right now. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of Jaehyun again — his warm eyes, cold hands, and the way his lips had him gasping for air when they kissed.

Jaehyun, in particular, set him off in a way the other two didn't, and it wasn't the same sort of fear he felt when he was around Mark and Johnny, _no._ It was something different. Something that made his insides crawl with an almost pleasurable sort of pain. Something he wouldn't dare to admit out loud, even alone, in fear of it being carried by the passing wind. There was something wrong with him.

Taeyong made his way through the empty beach quietly, nothing but the sound of waves crashing against the shore as his accompaniment. And then, he spotted something — or _someone_ — in the corner of his eye.

There, at the base of one of the faraway cliffs, was Doyoung. He was sitting on the rocks, face blanked as he, like Taeyong had, spent his time taking in the sight of the sea. But it was as if Doyoung sensed Taeyong's lingering eyes on him because it took less than a few seconds for his small, distant figure to stand. For a moment, Taeyong wondered if he had gotten it all wrong — if the head of dark black hair belonged to someone else and his mind had created another false image, his imagination blurring the lines of reality.

But that thought was quelled when Doyoung's head turned to face him and they met eyes. Something flashed in Doyoung's features — a look of recognition, mild surprise, like he'd been _caught,_ then resignation, nostrils flaring as his eyes hardened and dissected Taeyong with immeasurable scrutiny like they always did. Taeyong felt nothing about it because it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. Doyoung was the first to turn away from him, walking further towards the cliff face until he disappeared somewhere unto the other side of the beach. And for the first time since he'd met Doyoung months ago, Taeyong realised he'd seen past Doyoung's calloused exterior — he'd peeked past his walls and caught Doyoung in an act of vulnerability.

He and Doyoung weren't so different, Taeyong thought as he made his way home through quiet streets, sun still rising overhead. They were worlds apart in how they reacted to things — how Doyoung chose fight when Taeyong chose flight, how Doyoung could stand up even when Taeyong was forced onto his knees, but if there was ever one thing they had in common, it was masking who they truly were.

Sometimes, his intuition was wrong.

But when each step towards home felt like he was approaching imminent death, insides curling in on himself, he had a feeling that he was, for once, right. Something lodged in his throat, growing and expanding as he spotted a familiar car in his driveway. He slowed his steps, and when a hand came down to the front door, his heart picked up pace when he noticed that it was unlocked. He froze at the realisation that there was somebody in his house. The churning feeling in his gut had been right because there was someone in his house. Taeyong's insides screamed at him not to open his door, the warning bells in his head sounding in his ears louder than ever, even when he knew who was inside.

Jaehyun came into view, sitting idly on one of the chairs in his open living room. Like Doyoung had, too, Jaehyun spotted him without him even having to say a word. His head turned languidly from where he had been scrolling through his phone to face Taeyong who had stopped and stood at the doorway.

They stayed like that for a moment that transcended time with just how long it took to pass. Jaehyun's face was blank, nothing in it to mirror shock or any sort of amusement at Taeyong's arrival, and Taeyong's stared back at him equally as passive — or, at least, he _hoped_ it was passive. He hoped Jaehyun couldn't pick apart how he felt inside, but Jaehyun had always had a way of reading him like an open book. Fear drove him forward, and he took slow steps until he was standing halfway into his living room. A sort of confrontation, if Taeyong could ever muster ups the guts that had been ridden from his carcass.

Jaehyun rose on his feet again until he was standing, tall and proud. He seamlessly pocketed his phone and approached him with a heart fluttering smile. "No greeting, doll?"

"You're in my house," Taeyong said, stammering slightly.

Jaehyun had been waiting for him in his _house._ Taeyong had left hours ago, and Jaehyun had come. Fear overtook him and he tensed up again when his eyes flit past Jaehyun to his own rickety stairs, the ones that lead to the upper floor — the ones that led to his _bedroom._ And there were things he'd hidden inside — documents with his name on them, documents with Minjae, bank statements, credit cards... All things that he hadn't used in fear of being traced. But if Jaehyun ever caught wind of it all...

"You shouldn't leave your door open," Jaehyun said, grabbing his attention again. “It's not safe. Imagine if I was a stranger. You need to learn to lock up."

"I did," Taeyong answered impulsively.

Though, the words had come out wrong. They'd come out like a lie. Because maybe he hadn't locked it. Maybe he'd left it open for monsters like Jaehyun to creep their way inside. He had been out of it when he'd left in the early morning — mind tethered and body sleep deprived. He remembered closing the door, but did he hear the door click? Did he even have his _keys?_ Taeyong swallowed as Jaehyun reached a hand forward to cup his chin, thumb brushing over his cheek.

"You kept me waiting for awhile. I told you that there's somewhere we needed to go," Jaehyun informed him, eyes flitting down to Taeyong's lips eyes and hazing over slightly. It was a signal that he wanted to kiss him.

Taeyong's mind reeled back to the time he'd left the house in the morning and seen a black car coming up his driveway, and then it went further back to when Jaehyun had texted him at night saying his lights were on. And the dots didn't connect. His memories were in wind-bound fragmented pieces — carried away, like they always were whenever he'd have his occasional blackouts. They were sparse, but right now, he couldn't trust himself to accuse Jaehyun of breaking in if he couldn't even remember the truth of it himself. But if he had been waiting, for just how long exactly?

"Where have you been, doll?" Jaehyun asked, the tone of his voice taking on a lower note.

Taeyong faltered, too fixated on the name Jaehyun had given him to answer. And he hadn't noticed it until now; the terms of endearments that bordered insults from him and Mark. Darling. Doll. Puppet. Like Minjae had been, they were the ventriloquists, and Taeyong was the dummy being pulled apart by the strings of his poorly woven seams. Jaehyun was quiet as he ran a hand through the tufts of Taeyong's hair, fingering the short, blonde strands that were left.

He frowned slightly. "What have you done to your hair, doll?"

"Don't call me that," Taeyong answered, voice shaky at the thought of sticking up for himself for the first time — his very first act of defiance since he'd fallen into their trap, no matter how small. On instinct, he closed his eyes right after the words had left his mouth, bracing himself for the inevitable sting of beady pain to bloom over his cheek. But, just like the time they'd been in Jaehyun's car, it never came.

Instead, Jaehyun's hand dropped from his hair, and he studied Taeyong with harsh eyes. Taeyong swallowed down coal, heart drumming in his ears and now desperately wanting to take his words and feed them back to himself. Choke on them. Maybe then he'd wake up in the hospital bed and it'd all have been a sick sort of dream — a nightmare. Minjae, Ridgewood, _everything._ But Jaehyun's hands coming up hold his cheeks, fingers wrapping around the circumference of his jaw and tilting his head from side to side, was real. And Taeyong was stuck in a reality in which he'd never escape.

"Were you trying to hurt yourself?" Jaehyun asked, voice hardening as he inspected the sides of Taeyong's face for any other cuts or bruises he'd used to sully his skin. But there was nothing there. The scrapes and wounds that bled were internal.

"Where were you?" he asked again suddenly, fingers tightening around Taeyong's chin, making Taeyong jerk back, the hold Jaehyun had on him was a little less nice than it had always been. Had this been his true colours before? Was this the beginnings of the fucked up darkness seeping out from behind his mask? Jaehyun's jaw ticked at Taeyong's silence — an indirect refusal.

"Were you trying to run away from us?"

The exchanged silence was defiance. Taeyong had denied him once, and now he wanted to see how far he could take it. But the game he was playing was dangerous, he knew, and still, it'd be the only way he'd know how much leeway he'd have with Jaehyun in the future. He wanted to know how far it'd go — how much he'd have to push Jaehyun's walls to see when, like Minjae, he'd hurt him. Taeyong was no stranger to pain when it'd come. He needed to see how far Jaehyun would take it.

But the type of the pain Jaehyun brought him was different — curled hands around Taeyong's chin drawing him forward until they were in a hot, bruising kiss. This type of pain went beyond physical, Taeyong realised, gut turning on itself and insides splitting apart. It was as much of a kiss as it was a warning, as it was something else he'd never be able to figure out. Jaehyun kissed him with a man whose lover had just returned to him and who he had no intentions of letting go of.

Jaehyun pulled away and licked over his lips.

"Salt..." He stilled. "You went to the beach." It was more of a statement than a question, but there was no need to ask. He was right. Jaehyun's hand fell from his face, the storm in his eyes clearing. But it was too late, Taeyong had already witnessed it. Jaehyun had to be capable of _more._ "Why?"

"To clear my head," Taeyong answered, letting out a silent breath now that he was rid of Jaehyun's touch. It fogged his mind whenever Jaehyun was close — _too_ _close_ — like he was now, less than arm's length away from him. One step forward and they would've been pressed against each other, chest to chest.

Jaehyun cocked a brow. "There are better ways to clear your head."

Taeyong knew better to indulge, better than to ask more than was necessary, and yet, the words had tumbled out before he could stop them. "Like what?"

The corner of Jaehyun's lips quirked upwards into a small, inconspicuous smile, and his eyes flickered over Taeyong's frame. "Like me coming over and fucking you against the doorway."

And then, Jaehyun outstretched a hand, causing Taeyong to temporarily clam up and butterflies to thrash in his stomach. But he had the sticking habit of being wrong when it came to Jaehyun — about what he did, about how he thought, about the way his mind was wired and the way he processed his thoughts. He'd thought that Jaehyun would've taken action upon his offer, but his hand came down to the door handle behind Taeyong and simply pulled it open. Taeyong had been wrong because he could never read him and because his mind had a way of blown things out of proportion.

_Paranoia._

"Come. There was somewhere I said I wanted to take you," Jaehyun told him, opening the door and leading him out with a firm hand on the small of his back all the way to the car.

The smell of its leather interior and Jaehyun's distinct cologne made the memories of their kiss resurface. This time, he strapped himself into place with his seatbelt alone. And there was a difference between that time Jaehyun had kissed him and mere minutes ago. It had been soft then — tender, almost — lingering on his lips for hours after, but the one he'd given him when now was completely different. Taeyong leaned back, gluing himself to his seat, afraid to move as he faced the road and Jaehyun pulled out of his driveway.

But his eyes strayed no matter how much he wanted to keep them focused up ahead, falling back to Jaehyun who drove them in complete and utter silence. Taeyong couldn't help but notice the little things. How Jaehyun never spared him a glance when his eyes were on the road, even when, at every other time, his eyes would be on him always — watching, waiting, a leading cause of Taeyong's paranoia even when he couldn't see him. He noticed the veins on Jaehyun's arms and the light cuts that decorated his otherwise unblemished skin. With nothing to drown out the sound of his beating heart, he couldn't help but _notice._

And then, his eyes caught the way Jaehyun ever so casually reached out a hand to turn on the music in his car, eyes fixated on the road all the while. Taeyong stiffened up immediately at the song that came on, the familiar sound of classical music playing in his ear. The rate of his heartbeat spiked, and his hands tightened around the door handle and seat of the car, memories hitting him full force — Minjae with his hands around his neck, Minjae pulling him into the bathroom of the gala, Minjae, Minjae, _Minjae._ Classical music played in the background every time, and now it was back again.

"Turn it off," Taeyong said through an anxious breath. But it was quiet and Jaehyun hadn't heard him — or, if he did, he paid him no mind. Taeyong keeled forward, hand thrusting out to stop the music, but at the same time, Jaehyun's hand shot around to tighten around his wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him in place. Jaehyun wasn't looking at him even then, one hand on the wheel and both brows furrowed in concentration.

"Turn it off," Taeyong said again. The sound of classical music rattled his head and made his throat squeeze in on itself, as if there was a hand there doing it for him.

"Why?" Jaehyun's voice dropped as he asked.

Taeyong stared at him, a part of him wondering if Jaehyun was serious and another part of him wanting to yank the door handle and throw himself out of the car in some fleeting thought of ending what hadn't even started. But he squashed that part of his brain as he always did quickly, afraid that if he didn't, similar thoughts would run loose and he'd black out again. He went to turn off the music a third time, but Jaehyun kept him in place. He couldn't tug his hand out of Jaehyun's iron-like grip. It was a new side of Jaehyun he was seeing today, one who poked and prodded, tenacious until he'd gotten the answers he wanted.

"Why should I turn it off?" Jaehyun prompted, voice edging unto suspicion. "Is there something you don't like about it? Does it trigger you?"

And maybe he shouldn't have been surprised at the way Jaehyun could read him, but he was. His stomach lurched at the thought of telling Jaehyun the reason why. There were certain things he'd take to the grave until he died.

"Yes," he admitted. Nothing more, nothing less. Almost at once, Jaehyun dropped his hand and turned it off himself.

There was a pause — a beat of silence — and the invisible hands coiled around his neck loosened so that he could breathe again, allowing him to let out an unsteady breath. Taeyong wrapped his arms around himself and edged away from Jaehyun who sat driving and still facing the road. His legs bounced from restlessness, hands itching again with the need to be washed. He could still hear the faded music in the back of his head — the highs and the lows and the screeching sound of violins as his mind warped and distorted them to instead make beautiful sounds turn into ugly, horrendous things. Light nausea hit him, and he rolled down to windows for a bit of fresh air.

"You know," Jaehyun started, tone void of any emotion to hint at what he'd say next. Taeyong, too lost in his own thoughts, had almost forgotten Jaehyun was beside him. But Jaehyun could really never be someone he'd just _forget._ "I like when you tell me the truth," Jaehyun continued. "When you're honest with me. When you talk. I'd like you to do it more often."

Taeyong swallowed, looking at Jaehyun through the corner of his eye. His face was unreadable. What exactly was he getting at?

"I'll start if you want," Jaehyun said, tone shifting to something lighter, more friendly, and a little bit more inviting. Back to his beginnings. His roots. The stems that had entwined his ankles and pulled Taeyong in in the first place. "That music wasn't mine. It was Johnny's."

Jaehyun paused, as if waiting for Taeyong to ask a question, as if waiting for Taeyong to answer, but he didn't wait too long, moving on to carry his one-sided conversation. "I don't like classical music. Do you?"

"No." The answer was obvious.

Jaehyun chuckled darkly. "I didn't think so. What was that?" he questioned. "A panic attack? Over Shostakovich's sixth symphony?"

"You know it," Taeyong blurted. For the first time since they'd be driving, Jaehyun turned to him, smiling. Taeyong was caught up in it — the way it looked so innocent. The way it _glowed._ But Jaehyun wasn't looking at him for _him._ He was looking because they had reached a stoplight.

"Of course. Now it's your turn," Jaehyun went on. Taeyong didn't need a mirror to know that the look on his face screamed _for what?_ Jaehyun turned away again as the light switched to green. "Tell me something. Ask me something — anything you want. I just want to hear your pretty voice."

Jaehyun's free hand slid over to his lap, smoothing over Taeyong's thigh with his thumb. It was an act meant to comfort, but instead Taeyong stirred, an indescribable feeling of warmth settling at the pit of his stomach. But he had nothing to say. Nothing to tell him. He was a listener, not a partaker. And he'd always stayed quiet. It was how it'd always been till now. Till Jaehyun wanted to know everything about him.

"The power cut off yesterday," Taeyong said. It was the only thing that came to mind. "It was off for a few hours. Did you... Did you turn it off?"

Only when the words came out did he realise how truly paranoid it sounded — the thought of Jaehyun sneaking in and turning off his lights like a thief in the night. _Jaehyun_ was a little too classy — a little too refined — for Taeyong to picture it. But at the same time... at the same time, he didn't put it past him. Sometimes it was the men who didn't seem capable that should've been feared the most.

Instead of delving into the accusation, however, Jaehyun took an entirely different route. "Why? Are you scared of the dark, doll?"

"No. I'm not."

There were things he was afraid of — tangible people and objects, imperceptible things such as his thoughts — but the dark wasn't one of them. When his parents would lock him in the closet, he learned to love the dark like he loved the light. He wasn't afraid of the dark, but, sometimes, the creatures that came out in it.

Jaehyun didn't believe him.

Jaehyun hummed, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "Today we're going to be playing a little game called trust."

At their destination, they got down from the car, and Taeyong was quietly thankful for it. Each car ride was worse than the last, and being so close to Jaehyun made it hard to stomach the tension — that and the raging feelings in his heart he didn't dare look inward to confront. There was something wrong with him, he knew. But it didn't matter now. They were out, and he recognised where Jaehyun had taken him, not from its physical familiarity but because Ten had mentioned it before. Ten was a hairdresser, and Jaehyun had brought him to where he worked.

"We're going to be doing something about your hair," Jaehyun said, rounding the car and pocketing his keys. He nudged his head in the direction of the barber shop. "Go in. Ten'll treat you."

Taeyong did as instructed, walking ahead of Jaehyun and towards Ten as a means of escape. Though, Jaehyun was two steps behind him — taller legs, longer strides. He could've overtaken Taeyong if he wanted to, but he'd kept Taeyong in front of him. And somehow, Taeyong realised as he entered the small building, the door bell jingling above him, that was _worse._ He couldn't see him from behind, and eyes always burned the most when you could only feel them. Ten's head shifted at the sound of his arrival, already snipping away at someone else's short red hair. Taeyong wondered if that's how his hair would look, too, by the end of it, but blonde.

Or maybe he'd colour it.

"Yongs," Ten said blinking at him — or blinking at what he'd done to his _hair._ Taeyong hadn't thought it was that bad because of Doyoung and Jaehyun's lack of reaction, though maybe it was because it was _Doyoung and Jaehyun,_ not Ten. The look on Ten's face bordered on shocked and horrified, and then the bell jingled again when Jaehyun entered, and Ten's look reverted to stoic, straightening out his features and wearing a smile that seemed a little too forced around its wary edges.

"Jaehyun," Ten greeted, watching as Jaehyun came forward and slipped a hand around Taeyong's waist.

"Ten." Jaehyun nodded.

Taeyong's eyes skittered between the two of them, feeling something off in the air. The way they spoke to each other, as reserved as it was, made him feel like he was missing something — the past, the present, and the future. And then when he looked at their eyes, something in him confirmed it. He wasn't part of their wordless exchange, and he didn't know if he wanted to be. Like Ten had never asked him any questions, Taeyong didn't ask him many, too. But now he wondered if he should've. Now he wondered how much attention he should've paid to Ten before.

And it was simply deep rooted skepticism and paranoia, he knew, but his brain had already made the linkage between Jaehyun and Ten, so now there was no way to stomp out the curiosity. And then, before any questions could fall from the tip of his tongue, Jaehyun used the arm around his waist to veer him in the direction of the seats, waiting for Ten to be finished with the customer he was working on. There wasn't anybody else waiting before or after them, and the only other person seated was the receptionist at the front desk who hadn't spared even them a glance when they entered. Other than that, the place was deserted. Ridgewood was a ghost town.

Taeyong slipped out of Jaehyun's grasp to sit in a seat of his own, already having had the forewarning of Jaehyun attempting to do to him what Mark had and slip him into his lap. A part of him expected Jaehyun to have forced him back in and to have yanked him back to the side, like he would've if he was Minjae. But that was another one of his mistakes. The blurred lines between Jaehyun and Minjae. Minjae and Jaehyun. Mark, Johnny, Minjae, and Jaehyun. Where they started and where they ended, he couldn't distinguish. What Minjae and Jaehyun would do ended up being polar opposite yet similar all at once. God had cursed him with the same type every time.

Some people had been martyrs in their past lives. Taeyong was paying for the sins of thousands.

Jaehyun took out his phone and scrolled through it, stopping to squint at a message he'd received, completely unaware of the fact that Taeyong was holding himself back from squirming beside him. Or maybe he knew. Maybe he was aware and this was his way of keeping Taeyong in some slow form of silent torture. And then when Jaehyun's hand sank on his thigh without a word, Taeyong realised he found himself relaxing. And that thought... that thought scared him.

It wasn't long before he was sitting in the chair with a cutting gown around him to catch the wisps of falling hair. Ten made eye contact with him at first, eyebrows furrowed, but not in disapproval.. in something else he couldn't exactly put his finger on. Taeyong averted his eyes, tired of being read by everyone, and Ten was the last person he expected to be judged from. If Ten knew the reasons behind it, would he judge him then? Would he help him? If Taeyong asked Ten about The Brothers like he had asked Lucas, would Ten provide the answers he needed?

"You want to colour it?" Ten questioned after an overloaded pause. Taeyong felt like he could finally breathe, the dense air now cut in half.

"Keep it blonde," Jaehyun suggested, arms crossed as he waited behind them. Taeyong's eyes flickered to him through the mirror. Jaehyun's expression held attentiveness, like he was truly thinking about it. He redirected his attention back to Taeyong, catching eyes with him through his mirrored reflection. "You look pretty like that, doll."

There was a pause, and something in Taeyong wanted to succumb to Jaehyun's wishes — the part of him that learned to be ready to please. But if Ridgewood was a new start, maybe he could cut ties with his past self and start again now. It would also beg the question if he was just a pretty face — if that was the sole reason Jaehyun, Mark, and Johnny were doing this to him. Ten pulling out the scissors kicked him out of his stupor.

"Black," he told him. "Dye it black."

Ten nodded, and Taeyong felt the heat of Jaehyun's eyes at his request. Though the feeling was gone just as soon as it came when Jaehyun stepped back, disappearing from Taeyong's view and leaving him alone. Ten retrieved what he needed and began the process of revamping his hair. The snipping was less sporadic, his hands were softer on his hair than Taeyong, himself, had been — pulling, tugging, scraping until his scalp felt like it was bleeding. When the process was complete, Taeyong blinked at himself in the mirror, feeling... nothing. He felt nothing.

He was deluded to think that something as trivial as changing his hair colour would break down the person he'd become over years and years of building himself up that way. He wasn't strong enough to push out the building blocks, and it was impossible to start from the foundation. Ten complimented his hair when it was over, Taeyong standing up with numbed legs. His heart beat wildly in his chest when his eyes gravitated to Jaehyun who had been waiting the entire time. An itch for approval overtook him and, at the same time, the itch to get away.

Jaehyun stepped forward, weaved his fingers through what was left of his now dark hair, and smashed their lips together.

The drive back was quieter than it had been the first time. And when they got out of the car the second time, Jaehyun said nothing, either. But there was a light smile coiled on his lips as they stepped up and out into the edge of the open cliff Jaehyun had parked on. Taeyong's stomach dropped once he realised that they were at the beach again, though this time above more than below. It looked like a similar cliff to the one Doyoung had been standing under. With its rocky, uneven ground, Taeyong felt off kilter just standing on it, not to mention approaching the edge like Jaehyun had.

"What are we doing here?" Taeyong asked, hands curled tightly around the car handle, so that he wouldn't let go and plummet down below. His heart pumped in his chest and his veins squeezed under his skin as he looked at how far over Jaehyun was standing.

Jaehyun turned back to smile at him. "This is your first time here, isn't it?" The question was empty and rhetoric. "I like that. I like to be your first."

"I want to go home," Taeyong said, wary.

There was something awfully specific about Jaehyun bringing him to the beach — about Jaehyun bringing him to the place he'd used to enter Ridgewood. And it was times like this that his muscles locked at the thought of Jaehyun knowing what he had come for — what he was _running from._ It was another one of Jaehyun's tests, his brain reasoned. It was designed to keep him on his feet and his toes curl in horrification. Jaehyun was biding his time until he'd strike with what he knew. Jaehyun had already figured him out. Jaehyun knew and—

"I can see you thinking, babe," Jaehyun said, slicing his thought process in half. "I told you to clear your schedule for the weekend, didn't I? But we'll be leaving soon, don't worry. Now," he stopped to smile, "come here."

Taeyong approached tentatively with wobbly legs, each step making a thread of alarm spread within him until the threads snaked around his brain and caused it to ring. Dimples deepened in Jaehyun's cheeks at the sight of Taeyong going along with his orders, but what he didn't know was that Taeyong was reassuring himself. It'd be just for a moment. Just for now. Just one more minute and it'd be over and they'd leave. The mantra repeated in his head like a broken record. Jaehyun brought him in and closer towards the edge with a hand, grounding him so that Taeyong knew the chance was slipping was low.... That was _unless_ someone pushed him.

Before Taeyong could stop to think, Jaehyun's hands wrung around the back of his shirt and pushed him forward until he was at the very edge of the cliff, and his body was leaning down over its side so he could see the rocky faces underneath. Taeyong's breath hitched as Jaehyun held him there, one hand tightly on the shirt of his back and the other around his nape so that he couldn't even turn his head. Taeyong's heart pounded in its cage of imprisonment, the want to scream taking over, but the constriction of his throat prevented him from doing so.

He could see the bottom of a destructive fall. He could smell the acrid salt of the sea. He could taste _death._

Jaehyun crouched down a little behind him, still holding Taeyong in place as the soles of his shoes went dangerously over the edge, sandy rock crumbling underneath it as he was forced closer to the fall, on the precipice of the ledge. He'd thought of a death like this before, one belonging to water — one _deserved_ — but when face to face with his soon to be demise, fear had struck him down to his very bones. A coward. A dreamer. A man who made the same mistakes over and over and over again. His body had gone into shock, unable to process what Jaehyun was doing to him. And when Jaehyun's lips came down to his ear, Taeyong swore his heart stopped beating.

"Do you trust me?" Jaehyun whispered, voice dark and low.

Jaehyun was _sick._

"W-what?" Taeyong croaked. His words were dry, just above a breath, so quiet that he could only pray that Jaehyun would hear him and let him go. It was only the two of them out in the open. If Jaehyun wanted to let him die, he could've let go, and no one would find his body until it washed up with the tide.

Jaehyun added pressure to his neck — barely there, but Taeyong's senses had heightened. Right now, he could feel _everything._ "I said," he repeated, "do you trust me?"

It was a yes or no question, but it felt like more than that — large, thick, weighted. And Taeyong realised that maybe Jaehyun was worse. Worse than Minjae. Jaehyun's actions were almost psychotic, borderline deranged, and not something a normal person would ever do, but Taeyong was beginning to realise that under the mask Jaehyun always wore so well, he wasn't so _normal._ Taeyong didn't see a right or wrong answer. His brain was too addled to go through the proper process of thinking. Taeyong could only shut his eyes and _pray._

"Yes."

There was a split second of trepidation as Jaehyun's hands loosened around his neck and back of shirt, and Taeyong prepared himself to fall for giving the wrong answer to a deceptive question. But then Jaehyun's hand yanked him back into safety and off the edge, and Taeyong's knees nearly buckled in relief. Jaehyun caught him before he could slip and hauled him in. Taeyong's eyes prickled with unshed tears, and he fisted his chest in efforts to calm the sporadic beating of his heart. Panic had settled in after shock, and that's all he could feel.

Jaehyun shushed him, rocking a swaying Taeyong in his arms until he had calmed down completely. And it was sick — the way the man who'd nearly caused him physical pain was the one to bring him so much comfort. His descent into quiet took minutes that prolonged themselves to feel like hours, but all the while, he was in Jaehyun's arms. Jaehyun pulled away and cupped his cheeks, wiping away the few tears that had rushed out. Thrill mixed with adrenaline and fear pumped in his veins as Jaehyun hooked his chin and forced Taeyong to look up at his sincere and tranquil eyes. The monster swirling inside them was gone.

Jaehyun bent down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "I would never let you fall."

They arrived at their final destination with the low rumble of the car, and Taeyong immediately got out, hunching over as his chest heaved when the sickly feeling of tightness and nausea hit him. He'd calmed down at the clifftop, but the feeling of his insides closing in on themselves had come back at full force again when he and Jaehyun got back into the car. He couldn't believe what Jaehyun had done to him in the name of trust and truth. When Jaehyun had given him vague and clipped reasons, Taeyong had almost thought he was having auditory hallucinations from their irrationality.

_"Trust and truth go hand in hand, doll," Jaehyun said as he helped Taeyong into the car, a hand wound around his shoulder._

_Before Taeyong could shut the door and keep him out, Jaehyun pulled it back open and crouched down so that the torso of body was in line with Taeyong's knees. He raised a hand to the underside of Taeyong's chin and prised it down so that they were levelled in gazes._ _Taeyong's showed insurmountable fear, and Jaehyun just sat for a moment, dark eyes drinking it in. Relishing in it, almost. He then tilted his head._

_"I need you to trust that I would never hurt you."_

Jaehyun had an affinity for lies from the very beginning. There was no possible ounce of trust he could feel towards Jaehyun. Not now. Not after what had just happened. Maybe not ever. The feeling of sickness subsided, and he looked up at the mansion they'd come to. It was large and unfamiliar, with a wide garden stretching out across it. It didn't take him long to put two and two together. If the mansion they'd been to last time belonged to the Suh's, this one must have belonged to Jaehyun — it must have belonged to the _Jungs._

Jaehyun got out of the car after him, this time a pull in his brows and his eyes glued to a car parked further up front like it wasn't supposed to be there. Or wasn't supposed there _so soon._

"She came earlier than I expected," Jaehyun said, licking over his white teeth. He looked over at Taeyong who was still doubled over at his side of the car. "You're going to have to go through the back just for today. My mother's here."

Taeyong stilled and straightened up. Jaehyun's mother. If he caught a glimpse of her then... His thoughts had trailed off, though, because it took a beast to raise a monster, so what guarantee did he have that seeking the older woman out would work out? But still. The idea had been implanted in his brain and no matter how much his muscles stiffened at the thought, it didn't mean he couldn't _try._ Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at him, as if he knew what Taeyong was thinking. And maybe he too found the idea of Taeyong escaping so absurd that he _smiled._

"I like how you're so expressive. It's cute to see the moment your face lights up when you get those funny ideas." Jaehyun grinned. "I'll see you inside. Round the house and go past the pool, there's a door at the back leading to the kitchen that you can enter through. I'll meet you there," Jaehyun instructed.

Jaehyun turned away from him and put two fingers in his mouth, wolf-whistling. At once, the maid tending to the plant pots stood up, dusted off her knees, and bowed. Jaehyun nodded at the direction of the back of the house, and she nodded back, understanding his unsaid orders.

His options were limited, he thought as Jaehyun walked away from him, correcting his posture before making his way to the house. In lieu of Jaehyun's presence came the maid's, bowing at Taeyong again after approaching him. Taeyong forced a smile at her, some distant part of him wondering if she could help him, but if there was anything he'd learned from observing the people who worked under the rich, it was that they did as told. And was Taeyong any different? If in her position, with the knowledge of what was going on, would he help, too? It was a question of morality and one that he didn't need to confront, already dealing with the brew of emotions broiling inside of him.

Quietly, she led him across the front of the house and towards the back, and he followed a few steps behind her, eyes latched on to Jaehyun's figure until he disappeared through the front door and Taeyong was truly alone. A heavy feeling mounted the pit of his stomach as they neared the corner of the house to turn into the back of it, and it increased in size with every step closer. And then, he realised why. He stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell upon a large of body of water and the person swimming inside of it. The maid stopped a few paces in front of him, noticing that he was no longer following her.

Taeyong's mouth ran dry at the sight of Johnny at the edge of the pool, placing his hands firmly on the sides before pushing himself up, the taut muscles of his back flexing with each and every move. Beads of water trickled down his sheen skin in pellets, and his stomach caved when he straightened out and reached for a towel to dry his hair. Johnny was built different from Jaehyun — where Jaehyun was wide, Johnny was tall, towering above Taeyong, even from so far away, like a mountain. And there something on his side that struck Taeyong immediately — a large gash running down the entire length of the left side of his abdomen. It now looked as if it had tenderly healed over in lumps and bumps.

Taeyong could imagine the feel of it under his fingers without the need to touch. After all, he was no stranger to scars.

And then, Johnny noticed him without Taeyong having to say a word — or maybe he'd known the exact moment he and Jaehyun had pulled into the driveway. Maybe he'd been waiting for him since then. Johnny's eyes flickered from the floor to his face, and Taeyong felt his breath catch in his throat at the knowledge of Johnny having the awareness that he'd been _staring._ His eyes didn't linger on Taeyong for too long, though — going to the maid who'd been waiting and, with one flick of his hand, sending her away.

Taeyong's head snapped towards the woman who had left upon Johnny's command and then back to Johnny who was stalking towards him — or Taeyong _thought_ he was, but Johnny stopped at the edge of the poolside, and the corner of his lips quirked into a baleful smile. He stood there watching Taeyong for a moment, and Taeyong watched him, too. For all the times he'd met them, it was his first time being alone with Johnny. It was the second time that the possibility of him screaming and no one coming to find him was very real. The maid surely wouldn't return, not even if she heard his cries, Taeyong knew from experience.

Out of the three Brothers, there was something about Johnny's that had always scared him the most from the very moment they'd met. Johnny's eyes had always held a glint of madness, and they did now, too. Johnny was different to Jaehyun and Mark. Where Mark, his step brother, was motionless and silent, Johnny made up for it in terrifying and loud physical aggression. If there was a built in alarm system in his head, it would have gone haywire whenever Johnny was near. And Taeyong already knew what would happen next.

Johnny lifted his head, dropped his towel, and crooked a finger. "C'mere."

There was a pause. Johnny smiled wider — rough and spiked around the edges. "I said come."

Taeyong yielded, feet propelling himself even when his whirring thoughts wanted to hold him back. Perhaps it was fear. Maybe it was the robotic need to please. It didn't matter, and he didn't need to rationalise it because he'd done it regardless. Johnny's eyes made him feel small — like an ant skittering towards him. Or a pig and a wolf. A hunter and its prey. Johnny never masked it in the way Mark and Jaehyun did, and maybe, for that, he should have been thankful. He knew the exact sort of trap he'd be stepping into and the hole in which he'd tumble — how far, how wide, how deep — because Johnny didn't bother to hide it.

"Mm, I see why Jaehyun likes you," Johnny said finally when Taeyong arrived in front of him, nerves jittery.

Taeyong's eyes flickered to the way Johnny's stomach twitched and flexed, and then Johnny was in his face before he could blink. He kissed him without an ounce of warning or prior notice, the contrasting softness of his lips in comparison to his hard body colliding with Taeyong's. He tasted like chlorine. Chlorine and smoke, like the aftermaths of a cigarette even though Taeyong had never seen one on him. He released Taeyong just as quickly as he'd gone in and wiped a hand over his mouth. A different him would've been insulted.

"You taste sweet," Johnny told him, licking over his lips afterwards. "Too sweet. Jaehyun would like that," he said.

Taeyong blinked. Johnny almost found it cute. "You kissed me."

"I'm glad you have fucking sense. You were mute for too long, and I don't like the silence," Johnny said irritably. No nicknames. Nothing sweet. Nothing like Mark or Jaehyun. The three of them were worlds apart. "You came early."

Taeyong stiffened. "We did... Do you know why Jaehyun brought me here? He said to clear my schedule... and.. and I don't know what you want to do to me."

"I like how you know that."

"Know what?"

"That we want to do something to you," Johnny answered, baring his teeth. "You know it and you're not running. You have nowhere else to go."

Johnny wasn't speculating, he was stating facts that hit a little too close to home. Taeyong briefly wondered just how much they knew about him and how much research they had done, but that thought was stupid and irrational. Of course they had deduced that because any sane person would've already tried to run. But monsters plagued you no matter how the physical distance apart, and Taeyong had enough awareness to know he'd never escape.

"Sit down," Johnny ordered as he stalked to the pool and slipped into the water. Taeyong didn't move. Johnny's voice lowered, his lower half now submerged into the pool. "Or I'll yank you by the ankles and you'll smash your head against the fucking tiles. _Move._ "

For a millisecond, the idea to leg it inside and to safety flashed in his mind.

"And don't think Jaehyun will be coming out for you any time soon," Johnny warned him, voice dropping. "He a fucking little mama's boy."

After that, it was quick — the way Taeyong had almost scrambled to take a seat in front of him, drawing his knees up to his chest again. His heart palpitated in his chest at the mere notion of dying for the second time today. To live or to die had been a choice he'd had, and cowardice made the answer to such options easy. It was cowardice that'd kept him alive till now, not strength. And he let Johnny order him to sit because his body had cowered in fear. But after that, Johnny did nothing. He pushed his feet against the side of the pool so that he was launched backwards, a disturbing level of madness in his eyes as his eyes fell on Taeyong. Though, he didn't smile.

Johnny's earlier words held some sort of truth. In the minutes that had passed, there was no sign of Jaehyun anywhere, and Taeyong was forced to watch as Johnny swam laps up and down the pool, the muscles in his back and arms contracting with every stroke. Every time Johnny did a lap back towards Taeyong's feet, Taeyong's lips squeezed together, as if holding his breath, and would only release when Johnny had swam to the other side of the pool again.

And it was like that for a couple minutes, the familiar smell of chlorine stinging his nose and making memories he'd repressed into the deepest depths of his mind crawl their way back up. They were on the verge of resurfacing completely, but then, Johnny swam towards him and sliced his thought process in half.

Instead of turning for another stroke, Johnny rose from the water, wet hair falling over his eyes, and planted his hands by Taeyong's side so that he was trapped between his arms. Taeyong shifted backwards, heart picking up when Johnny leaned closer, but Johnny wouldn't let him escape — like the first time when Johnny's hands had wrapped around his legs, there was no possible route to get away. His approach was calculated and daunting. and Taeyong blanched until Johnny had climbed out of the water and was right on top of him. His first instinct had been to scream, but one of Johnny's hands had clamped over his mouth and the other held his arms up.

His veins drained of blood as Johnny searched his eyes, his own dark and drained of life. The look on Johnny's face didn't budge, even when he let up and hovered higher above him, droplets of water from his body and hair wetting Taeyong's clothes. The draw in his brows deepened, and from up close, Taeyong could see his nose flare from something akin to anger. But Taeyong hadn't done anything. Any anger directed towards him wasn't warranted. And now he couldn't distinguish the watery feeling in his eyes as tears or the droplets that had fallen from Johnny's auburn hair.

With a hand still clamped on Taeyong's lips and the bridge of his nose, stopping him from even _breathing_ — chest expanding so much that he felt like it would burst — Johnny leaned down to place his head in the crook of Taeyong's neck.

"Leave," he crooned.

It was barely a whisper, but Taeyong had heard it loud and clear. It was like a warning. Something for now — or something for the future. Fear asphyxiated him like there was a pillow being forced over his mouth and nose. With his heart lodged in his throat, he thrashed underneath him, but Johnny's grip on the hands above his head grew tighter.

He lifted his head to look over Taeyong's figure and then sunk down again to pepper kisses along Taeyong's neck, down to his collarbone, and his exposed stomach, where his shirt had ridden up. He stopped at the right side of Taeyong's abdomen, and Taeyong felt his stomach somersault as Johnny's lips replaced themselves with teeth as he burrowed down to _bite._ Johnny's hand lifted from his mouth just as Taeyong let out a cry of pain mixed with some indescribable feeling of pleasure. It had zapped through him and jostled his spine so hard that his back arched and pressed against Johnny's caved abdomen.

"I'm going to do it here," he said, voice half muffled against the skin of Taeyong's stomach. In the heat of the moment, Taeyong didn't question the meaning of his words.

His mistake, though, had been letting Taeyong's hands go because in a moment fuelled by adrenaline and panic, heart beating sporadically in his ears, Taeyong hauled his knee up to Johnny's groin with power and pushed against his torso with his hands, causing Johnny to stagger backwards into the pool. It was the element of surprise that had made it work, and with lightning bolt like quickness, he shot up and legged it. He couldn't hear movement behind him, but he scarpered at the thought that Johnny's hands would reach out and wrench him back at any given moment.

He didn't stop running until he was at the back of the house where he had meant to meet Jaehyun the entire time, body slamming through the door the maid must have left open. But he wasn't met with Jaehyun nor the maid when he entered — he was met with a _boy._ Taeyong jumped back when he saw him, and a hand flew to his chest, wanting to dig in and rip out his pounding heart. He was paralysed in a second wave of shock at the sudden sight of another stranger. The door he'd gone through had let him into the kitchen, and in it was a tall, spindly boy with eyes just as wide as Taeyong's and a back that was slightly hunched over.

Nothing about him screamed danger. But when fear overrode rationality, things like that didn't matter.

"J-Jaehyun. W-Where's Jaehyun?" he asked, stammering through uneven breaths. "Jaehyun, where is he?"

His asking was almost frantic, on the verge of bolting through the house again to find an exit, Jaehyun be damned. The boy's mouth opened and closed rapidly, like he too was struggling to form coherent words. Just as Taeyong was, he was rooted in place, staring at the stranger in his kitchen. If it was his. Now he was unsure where Jaehyun had taken him, and his mind filtered through all possibilities — kidnapping first.

"You're here."

Taeyong's head snapped towards the source. It was Mark. He was standing up against the doorway with his arms crossed and the same emotionless look in his eyes.

"Sungchan," he said with a dead voice, not bothering to look at him, and the nameless boy in the kitchen skittered out through another door.

It was just him and Mark then. But somehow, Mark was less scary — less scary than Johnny had been, at least. And though the puff of his chest had slowed, it sped up again at the look Mark was throwing him — one of slight disdain, the corner of his top lip twitching like he had something to say. Though, if he had a comment on Taeyong's slightly dishevelled state, he said nothing of it.

Mark turned and exited the kitchen, and only after a beat of silence on his own did Taeyong realise that he was expected to follow. He felt as if he was spiralling again — barely keeping himself together in terms of consciousness and sanity, but he willed himself not to break down and cry no matter how much he wanted to. His once solid legs had turned to liquid underneath him as he followed behind Mark through the empty hallways of the mansion. It felt more lifeless than Mark and Johnny's — a lot more rigid, a little less homey, devoid of both people and life. He hugged himself as a form of some weak layer of protection, keeping a safe distance between him and Mark in front of him.

His eyes darted around the area, on guard at the thought of Johnny jumping out and grabbing him. On their way, he spotted the maid again, the one that had left him, and had the overwhelming urge to slam her face into the wall for what she'd done to him and for what she'd nearly _caused._ He faltered in his steps at the thought and squeezed his eyes so hard that it hurt. He didn't want those thoughts again. Not now. Not ever again.

They went down winding halls until they reached a door, and without looking back, Mark stepped through. Taeyong wavered at the doorway, glimpsing into the dark abyss he was about to plunge himself into willingly. There were stairs, that much he could make out, but everything else was veiled in layers of darkness. A cave. A sanctum. A torture chamber. All senseless beliefs but ones that smote him nonetheless. He felt like Alice in Wonderland taking a leap into the rabbit hole — except, this time, knowing what was most likely at the end. He pressed a hand against the wall as a way to ground himself as he ambled downwards, eyes blinking rapidly in the darkness.

And then, the light to the room flickered on, and Taeyong spotted Mark's figure staring at him at the bottom of the stairs. He halted, Mark's thick gaze rooting him in place. And Mark never had to touch him for his aura to be physically threatening, he didn't have to say anything for Taeyong to be put on flight or flight mode, but only when Mark turned away did Taeyong feel like he could breathe again. They'd arrived in a basement — the only logic for there to have ever been in the first place. It was decorated, as if people stayed in it often — a blackened tv in the corner and game tables, accompanied with beanie chairs. Within his peripheral vision, he even spotted a violin.

Symphony six. Shostakovich.

"Take a seat," Mark directed, hands in his pockets as he walked over to one of the tables in the corners lined with drinks.

Taeyong sucked in a breath before doing as he was told, still shaken up from earlier. The urge to bolt only grew stronger the deeper he went inside the room and towards the four cushions that had been perfectly placed on the floor. They had prepared this. And there was something about the room that made him feel off despite its urban and clean nature. His mind ran with all incoherent possibilities, a hundred miles a minute. Was this where they brought people over to fuck them? Was this where they hurt them? What was the purpose — the _reason_ — for this? For _all of this?_

The sole of Mark's shoes made tapping noises against the wooden floor as he approached.

"Here," he said, holding out a glass from behind Taeyong's head. Taeyong's eyes flickered between the brown substance and the unreadable look in Mark's eyes, a lump forming in his throat. Mark's face hardened and he narrowed his eyes. "The way you think we spike your drinks is really fucking irritating. Don't be stupid. Darling, if we wanted to sleep with you, we wouldn't have to do it drunk. You'd spread your legs and let us."

"Now," he said, voice clipped, "drink."

Taeyong took it.

Mark's face straightened out again upon his acceptance. Mark hovered above and behind him, eyes fixated on Taeyong's head and back when he had turned away. He was waiting for him to drink, Taeyong knew. Taeyong brought the glass shakily to his lips and shut his eyes before throwing it back. A pause told him nothing. No alcohol — or, if any, watered down. A scare tactic. Mark rounded him to take his own seat in front of him, and he swirled his own drink. Taeyong watched as it made a whirlpool within the glass. He then placed it to his mouth to feign a sip, but nothing passed the tightened line of his lips.

It was an act, Taeyong realised, maybe one to calm his nerves — one to make him _settle._ One to lure him into another false sense of security. The grainy nerves under his skin were on fire.

"So, how did you get to Ridgewood?"

The question had caught him off guard, and Taeyong looked up from his drink sharply. He registered it then — the way the three other cushions were set up in front of him, the question Mark had asked... It was an interrogation, a way for them to pry into his life, and the position they'd made him sit had him cornered. And it had _worked._ Even under the eyes of just one of them, it was like being under the dissecting scrutiny of all three. Mark's finger tapped against the glass in unspoken expectation, but the beat to which he did it felt like a countdown.

_Five, four, three, two..._

"You're here already," Jaehyun said, voice echoing from the top of the room. He sounded out a breath, like he'd been worrying. Or running. Or maybe Taeyong was beginning to hallucinate. "I've been looking for you."

Mark's eyes didn't leave Taeyong even as Jaehyun walked in and towards them. Instead, he leaned back with one hand on the floor and tilted his head. An indescribable feeling bubbled in his stomach at the sensitivity of Mark stare on him, and he turned away from Mark to focus on Jaehyun by choice. Jaehyun was smiling slightly, face glowing even under the dark light of the room. He looked normal. Presentable. Like an innocent man. But there was a sickness in his head — one that Taeyong recognised — and there were layers to him that Taeyong had yet to pull off.

It was said that everyone was just you pushed outward and that like attracts like, though Taeyong hadn't meant to attract him. He hadn't wanted attention at all — content in his own airtight bubble.

But Jaehyun had taken that bubble and squeezed it till it burst it, and Taeyong couldn't deny the simmering pool of attraction spreading throughout his body when Jaehyun leaned down, curved a finger under his chin, and kissed him. It was a chaste sort of kiss, and Jaehyun's lips were cold, but it was one that had left him dazed nonetheless — a dizzying feeling taking over when Jaehyun let go. And Mark had been watching him, Taeyong realised when the daze had cleared. Mark had been watching them kiss without a change in expression or motion, if not for the telltale sign of the faltering beat of his finger against his glass cup.

Jaehyun pulled away from him and sat beside Mark in front of him. There were two out of three of them now, but the third would be coming soon, Taeyong realised. And the thought of Johnny showing up....

"It was my father's." Jaehyun's voice cut him off his train of thought. "This room. The violin. Tv. All of it."

Taeyong swallowed. A false sense of security. A trap. But not answering would leave him with his racing thoughts, so words would take his mind off it.

"Really?"

Jaehyun leaned back as Mark had, and he took Mark's drink despite lips having already been on it. Jaehyun hummed. "Yeah. He's dead, though."

Taeyong blinked. "Why are you telling me this?"

Jaehyun laughed — sort of earthy, sort of musical, a disarming type of laughter — before it suddenly dropped in time with him placing down his glass.

"I told you before," Jaehyun said, squaring his shoulders. "Trust. I told you what I brought you here for, didn't I?"

His lips quirked upwards into a smile that tiptoed between threatening and entrancing. It was like Taeyong was being bewitched right before his very eyes.

"Initiation," Jaehyun said, lowering his voice. "If you're to become one of us, there are steps you need to take. Procedures... It's ritualistic. Cleansing."

"I don't want to become one of you," Taeyong hated the way his voice quivered as he spoke.

"Oh, darling," Mark, his lips twitching into an almost invisible, wicked smile. "You've never had a choice."

Taeyong's chest caved, compressing inwards. There it was again — the notion of choice. Whereas Jaehyun had told him he'd had one, Mark wasn't one to mince his words and coat them in layers of sugars — the same sort of pounds and pounds that Taeyong would have to dig through to decipher the real meaning of Jaehyun's words, at times.

Just then, the door to the stairway swung open again. And for a moment, Taeyong counted it as a blessing — that was until he caught sight of the person standing at the very top. With an open shirt, a body that still gleamed as if it was still submerged underwater, and with light flitting in from behind him to cast a daunting shadow on the door, Johnny looked like a god. Or an angel, maybe, but one that had fallen and was cast out of heaven. One of the demons Taeyong saw in his dreams. Lucifer.

Johnny's descent down the steps had the stringent loins around his bones toughening and contracting all at once. Johnny stepped into the light did, and Taeyong saw the full effects of what he'd done to him. He wasn't the reason for the multitude of scars littered on Johnny's torso — _no._ But when Johnny strode in without a care in the world, head lowered and eyes locked with Taeyong as he glid his thumb over his busted bottom lip, Taeyong knew he'd been the cause of it. Irrationalised guilt crawled up his skin, but on top of that was _fear._ Fear because Johnny had walked past him without uttering a single word.

He'd expected something more. A hand around his neck, hair weaving and pulling on his hair like Minjae did when he was angry, or being yanked and lugged up the stairs by Johnny's hands around his legs.

The fact that he couldn't predict Johnny's next moves made it _worse._

It was silent as Johnny stalked over to the corner of the room, where he knelt down and rummaged through one of the cupboards. Silently, he stood up again, back to Taeyong, and when he turned around, Taeyong's eyes burst out of their sockets. In one of his hands was a kitchen knife and in the other was an empty glass cup. Immediately, Taeyong scrambled backwards, heart ricocheting in his chest again. He couldn't do this.

_He couldn't do this._

And Johnny walked towards him casually, but the dangerous glint in his eyes spoke volumes. Taeyong's back collided with something hard — a body — and then arms seized his shoulder and kept him in place. The blood rush in his veins felt like fire, and the will to run was at an all time high, but the words whispered into his ears had him paralysed.

"I told you, doll," Jaehyun whispered, lips to his ear behind him and hands squeezing Taeyong's shoulders slightly. "Initiation."

Johnny crouched down on his feet in front of him and put down the glass. With his free hand, he held it upwards and flexed it, lips twitching into a smile. Taeyong watched with wide eyes and a rapid, pumping heart as Johnny took the knife and cut a trail on his hand from the tip of his index finger down the length of his palm, sharp edge piercing skin just enough to make it bleed. And then, without a word, he dropped the knife with a clang and picked up the glass instead. Illuminated, red droplets of blood ran down the length of his hand and splattered inside the bottom of the cup.

If Taeyong had screamed, it was lost to his own ears, chest heaving in hyperventilation and mind freezing in fear that had struck him down to his very core. It was too much all at once — the feeling of his muscles locking and his heart plummeting into the dark pits of his chest until it hit the bottom and shattered. There was water in his eyes — liquid, like blood — as he saw red. Red turned to black when his vision faded, and the limbs of his body became void and weightless.

The last thing he'd seen was Johnny licking a stripe of blood off his palm with his tongue. And then, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. i hope you guys enjoyed that. thank you for all the feedback, it truly keeps me going sometimes. this fic is going to be a bit heavy, so prepare yourselves! and i always wonder if there’s enough (or too much) content in these chapters to be honest lmao. looking over my outline makes me unsure about it. anyways!
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated :)! love youuu <333  
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